


honey glaze

by JeanSouth



Category: Free!
Genre: Arabian!AU, Harem, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Sousuke hasn't started gathering his harem when he's thrust upon the throne as his father becomes less and less responsible. With the arrival of a foreigner from across the shallow sea, his harem starts to grow - not without issue from within, and more worryingly, from the outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for those hurt by kyoani ♥

Kisumi set foot in the palace three days after he moored in the port city. His legs ached from the cramped space of a ship cabin, and he could kiss the sandy, hot ground of the desert city when he’d stepped from the ship’s wooden deck; had, in fact, barely resisted doing so.

Instead he’d found the nearest inn; a small place with a nice inkeeper who looked sly enough that Kisumi could feel comfortable. People who were too nice had never appealed to him - from the tutor who had smiled brightly, constantly, when he was a child and made off with his mother’s necklace, to the steward who had sympathetically patted his shoulder the moment after he had told Kisumi to pack his things and leave.

In the end, though, a life of exile had not been unappealing to Kisumi. It beat leading two lives for the crown: in court, he had been resplendent, a rose-gold jewel to show off to foreign dignitaries who marveled over the king’s personal scribe, where at night he was instead a shadow, finding bedrooms in the dark, whispering words full of sweet nothings until he was close enough to take the life that was brittle in his hands. He had grown weary quickly; twenty-five was far old enough to be allowed to say no to his king, even if the council had disagreed.

When he’d taken his clothes, his jewels (and some jewels that were not his), he’d boarded the first ship and ended up here. The people were oddly friendly: when he had introduced himself on the street markets to a vendor selling maps, he’d been directed to the palace. It wasn’t often they got visitors from the mountain lands across the shallow sea.

Surely, he would be well-received. Kisumi had picked his way through the crowd, smiling left and right to guards and citizens alike in a start of making new friends.

Eventually, he’d made it to the palace. The kingdom still held court with its prince, though he’d long-since heard that the king preferred to spend his days enjoying his old age, but refused to hand over the title. After giving his name, he’d gotten a number and been told to wait.

Kisumi slipped into the crowd, standing out in the mass of black, brown hair. Despite that he found his way closer and closer, mingling more by instinct than will. When he was near the dais, slightly back in the crowd, he first marveled at the loose security. Only two guards by the prince’s side, two long, straight swords each, and a pleasant look on their faces. Their black robes made a distinct difference to the heavily clad knights from his home.

Someone jostled him from the side, distracted by his odd clothing, and refused to move.

"You must be foreign," the woman said, laughing. Kisumi supposed he looked the part of a foreigner: cream breaches, rather than the bright colours or the deep black loose pants this kingdom favoured. A cream jacket to match, buttoned neatly up the front. It was too hot for this weather, but shopping for a new wardrobe had not been his priority.

"Absolutely," Kisumi laughed, louder than the woman had been. He was used to being heard over a crowd if he wasn’t abjectly trying not to be. "The hair should give it away!"

The woman paled, slunk back, and left him to his confusion until one of the guards, no longer pleasant, dragged him before the prince. A kingdom could only be a modicum of relaxed, Kisumi supposed with a small sigh.

"Why are you shouting in my court?" the prince demanded and Kisumi’s first impression was surly, but fair, and perhaps a little sad. He had what seemed to be a perpetual frown line between his eyebrow, but it did nothing to take away from his eyes. They were in turns a blue like rich sapphires, dripping from silver in ball-room candlelight, then the emerald-green of forest pines and crown jewel emeralds. As a frown warred over the prince’s face, they were the aquamarine of the ocean Kisumi had stared at for weeks. In moments, those eyes felt like they were the end of his long journey over the sea. The soft-looking black hair was too short to cover his eyes, but was slightly mussed from fingers running through it nonetheless. He had a lovely voice when he cleared his throat. "I asked you a question."

So he had. Kisumo paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. He’d seen many a beauty and many a noble, and could worm his way into their pockets if he tried hard enough. Swallowing, looking as nervous as he could for a moment, he stepped slightly forward, then swept into a deep bow.

"I apologize, your highness," he allowed himself to glance up to catch the reaction to the musical lilt in his voice, the purr that fell on his last word. The prince was frowning deeper, staring. "I am familiar with many of your customs, but this is not one of them."

He kept the bow until Sousuke motioned for him to stop, then swept a hand through his hair, smiling widely, with teeth. Kisumi wanted to eat the young prince up, eat away at his tension, and see him come apart. He was twenty, if that, barely an adult. The terse conversations, the fair judgement, though, had proven already the prince had a healthy mind for justice, and a care for his people.

"I suppose it could be that I was simply excited to be in your beautiful land," Kisumi continued, watching more guards draw into the room to clear it for the afternoon rest. "In this beautiful palace, meeting the most beautiful prince the four Gods have ever crafted. They must have given me eyes purely so that one day, I could be here."

The prince - more handsome than pretty, with a masculine kind of beauty - turned red, and dismissed court. When the hall emptied, save for a few servants and the guards who seemed not to leave the prince’s side, he stood up and approached Kisumi. Tall, broad, but Kisumi supposed it would not do to have a prince who looked weak and frail.

"You must hail from across the sea," the prince beckoned for him to follow, taking a side door from the hall to a passageway with a lovey cool breeze. The guards could rival Kisumi for stealth as they followed silently. "As you worship the four Gods."

Kisumi shrugged, keeping step. Part of him felt awkward for not learning the royal family’s names - he had, after all, been something of a noble. His old history tutor would be tearing her hair out if she knew.

"Not so much worship," he laughed a bit, memorizing the path as they turned left twice, right a third, then crossed a large garden to a smaller one, where a low table was surrounded by plush cushions, next to a pretty pond filled with colourful fish. The garden was surrounded by high walls, covered by rose plants climbing over wooden slats to make a sunroof. Kisumi could imagine laying in the midafternoon sun, sated and nude, with his eyes closed and his face to the sun. The roses would block the sun to make patterns on his eyelids. When he thought he was being too forward, he reminded himself he deserved some peace.

"You don’t worship your gods?" the prince frowned, though it was a perpetual look. Ruling a country brought a certain kind of strain with it.

"We live in a mutual kind of disagreement," Kisumi offered, reminded of stiff, cold temples and long days of learning scripture. "My name is Kisumi."

A long pause fell as the prince settled on his cushions and poured wine. While he knew little of the apparent court customs, he knew enough to know princes rarely poured their own wine. Normally concubines - five to each royal, and three to the extended family each - or servants, he supposed, would pour the wine. It gave him enough of a chance to fix his earlier mistakes, so he sat, took the wine from the quiet prince, and poured instead. The wine was a pale gold colour and had no scent from how far away he sat. Each of the wines sat in a small dish. As opposed to the glasses of his homeland, the dishes allowed the wine to spread and breathe, releasing the flavours inside. With a hand on either side, Kisumi lifted the dish to the prince’s lips for him to drink. One of the guards went red, while the other fidgeted. The prince merely stared, then drank.

"Prince Sousuke-" one of them started, cut off by the other’s sharp look.

They looked anywhere but the table, instead staring deeply into the pond.

"I think I’ve made another mistake," Kisumi laughed, sipping at the dish of wine himself. It was fruity, slightly dry. He decided instantly that he liked it more than would strictly be healthy in the future.

Sousuke picked at cheese and soft, warm bread, looking like he was thinking of the diplomatic answer. There would be a lot of long silences and brooding with him, Kisumi supposed. He’d always been quick to decide on his friendships. Anyone he could feel comfortable with (the marquis he’d met at seven, the pirate he’d met at fifteen, and the guard he’d met not long ago had all been fast friends) was someone he would not let go. Where he could make himself at ease with his king, with his peers, sitting easy and feeling free to tease immediately had always been a good sign.

"Only concubines lift a dish to someone," Sousuke admitted, eventually, apparently unable to find a more political way to phrase it. His shoulders were slightly hunched, like he waited for Kisumi’s offence, the cries that the tradition of a harem was disgusting. It would hardly be an uncommon cry. He looked like words were resting on his tongue though, so Kisumi waited. "And only lovers share a dish."

He looked away, towards the sun. Kisumi didn’t really understand why the second was odder than the first. From what he knew, a prince’s concubines were his lovers, freely entering into his harem, and staying out of love for their prince. If he were to be a concubine, Kisumi reasoned, they would without question or option be lovers.

"Well," he shrugged eventually, sipping from the dish again. "If that’s so, and you’ve yet to run screaming from the room, I can only assume that you’re not against me courting you, until I decide if I want to join your harem."

Someone behind him laughed - it was probably not every day a potential concubine decided to take a prince, instead of a prince offering flowery words and a choice of dedication.

After a thought, Sousuke nodded. A peculiar type of prince, then, who would give up the choice and allow himself to be courted, but an equal footing was important to start with. Why would a prince have a harem with who he could not relax, give control, or be himself? Kisumi decided himself to be the perfect person; no obligations to hold him back, and enough knowledge to hold his own in a palace.

"Well," Kisumi smiled. "Tomorrow, we’ll go riding. Your afternoon rest is the same each day isn’t it?"

"Save for the seventh day, where I hold no court, yes," Sousuke nodded, forcing a business-like tone into his voice. Likely, Kisumi was not the first to offer his companionship, and by the lack of concubines in the hearing hall, he would be the first to not let Sousuke down.

"Then I’ll wait in the palace gardens for you," Kisumi decided, plan forming in his mind. A trip to the kitchens, to find out his new prince’s favourite foods; some books, to bring up the subject of interests, of engineering and astronomy; and a wine he’d seen on his morning stroll. It had a green glass bottle, turned blue, aquamarine, emerald in the sun, to show Sousuke his seriousness.

When Sousuke nodded again, he smiled, as wide as he could, and took off talking. As he slipped into a recount of last time he’d had cheese with apricots in it (and knocked a candelabra on a duchess), Sousuke gradually relaxed. Beyond paying attention, nodding, and the occasional question, he wasn’t required to make conversation. Which was fine with Kisumi, who could talk for three on a good day, and at least five when he felt as good as he did when he got his way.

Eventually, court resumed, and Kisumi went to scout for gifts, for books, and to make plans with the kitchen maids.

"Is there anything he likes that you don’t have?" Kisumi asked, leaning on a counter, getting flour on his cream jacket. Palace staff were people as much as the nobles, and Kisumi had always been a fan of people who were less likely to diplomatically talk their way through a conversation.

"Sweet pastries," one of the maids called across the kitchen, elbow-deep in bread dough. Her brown hair was tied back though she panted slightly with the effort of kneading.

"True," another one laughed, stopping next to Kisumi. At first they had been weary, until he’d declared his intentions of becoming prince Sousuke’s concubine, and teasing a smile from him more often. "The pastries from the markets, with the sweet fruit and and nut fillings. The ones glazed with honey. He refuses to let us make them, or he’ll eat nothing else."

"Thank you," Kisumi smiled, and wound his way from the palace to the market to taste-test honey-glazed pastries. It was perfect; messy, flaky food that would stick to Sousuke’s lips and beg to be kissed off by a charming, uninhibited foreigner with his keen eye on the stormy, but utterly dashing, lonely prince. As he smiled at a merchant, Kisumi pondered that he had been wasted as an assassin, and would now have the time to become a true erotic novelist.

Well, perhaps. He could, should he find time between testing out his erotic theories on his new prince.

"Sorry," he smiled at an old man he’d almost bowled over. Thoughts of Sousuke were ruining his focus; if he didn’t stop thinking of the fact that his prince was likely quite lewd, if teased in the right way, he would never get his shopping done.

In the end, he shopped quickly, and spent a long, long time thinking of the duties of a concubine, and the variety of lewd noises he could draw from a quiet royal.

As always, though, his plans executed perfectly.

"Sousuke," Kisumi smiled, blithely ignoring the guards on their own horses behind Sousuke as he came from the back gate to meet him for their ride. "I’m so glad to see you."

Though the silence he got in return would bother many, it didn’t grate. After a lifetime of listening to those who said too much, a prince tending to silence was far from torture. Instead he led the way between trees that were neatly spaced out along a paved path into one of the private royal clearings. Kisumi, in his light beige clothing, and Sousuke in his dark red robes, wound through with scarves and jewels, were not dressed for heavy riding. He swung down off his horse and offered a hand to help Sousuke down, though he’d likely spent a lifetime riding. By the way he’d rode, he was accustomed to it, but took Kisumi’s hand anyway; bold, giving a clear signal he was warming up to the idea of them together.

"I brought food," Kisumi pulled the back from where it hung, spreading a blanket for them to sit on that he pulled from the saddlebags, with two cushions that had taken up most of the space inside them. He laid them close together on purpose, and waited to see if Sousuke would take one. He sat down on the nearest one instead and waited; challenge clear in his eyes.

‘ _Show me you want this_ ,’ they seemed to say. He was taking a gamble on Kisumi. In fact, if he were working for the crown, he could have had a prince dead by now. The lax security made his stomach ache. A trusting prince would be a dead prince. No wonder they needed a harem to protect them, though Kisumi wouldn’t complain.

"I have a surprise, too," Kisumi pulled out the wine, in its decorative bottle, and watched recognition spark on Sousuke’s face. He poured it before putting it back in its place. "As soon as I thought of what I would bring, I knew this would be perfect. I can’t look at that colour and not think of you."

His blunt words made Sousuke look away and pick up the dish of wine, then offer it up to Kisumi’s lips. It felt like a victory, and he hoped it was one.

"And," he continued, motioning to the basket with his hands. "I want you to close your eyes."

Sousuke narrowed his eyes, slightly suspicious. Silently, Kisumi willed him to do it, to trust him even if only a little. Eventually, Sousuke closed his eyes and opened his mouth. He had lovely pink lips, so much so that Kisumi couldn’t help run his thumb over the bottom one, barely resisting the temptation to skip the rest and kiss him. He held back though, leaning over to get the pastry and unwrap it from its wax paper. Slowly he inched it past Sousuke’s lips.

"Go on," he encouraged, stroking his thumb over the back of Sousuke’s hand, watching intently as he bit down and pleasure washed over his features, the taste of honey and pastry likely caressing his tastebuds. Kisumi lay down the rest of it on its paper, looking at the flakes on Sousuke’s lips, readying himself. He leaned in, Sousuke’s eyes still closed, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "There’s some on your lips…"

With that he leaned in, pressing his lips to Sousuke’s honey-touched ones, tasting the sticky sweetness as he licked at them gently. It encouraged Sousuke into parting his lips again, pressing closer, his hands landing on Kisumi’s thighs to steady himself. While Kisumi could hardly imagine Sousuke a virgin, he couldn’t imagine him having had adventure either, between a strict upbringing and disappointing potential lovers. When the cautious fingers on his thighs retreated to his knees, he wanted even more to make Sousuke come apart.

Kisumi slid closer until he could rest his hands on Sousuke’s waist, slipping his tongue into Sousuke’s mouth, brushing their lips together. While he wasn’t cautious, Sousuke was pliant, happy to let someone make choices after he did much of it himself all day. Leaning forward, Kisumi nudged until Sousuke was on his back, head on the grass and Kisumi leaning on his chest, taking the kiss even deeper. He lightened the kiss for a second to focus, finding Sousuke’s hand and tangling their fingers together. Eventually he broke away, sliding slightly so his entire weight wasn’t on Sousuke.

"I was going to talk to you about astronomy," Kisumi sighed, watching Sousuke scrunch his nose when the air made a blade of grass tickle his earlobe. "But I have to admit, I’m tempted to ravish you, regardless of the audience."

The guards, kindly, had their backs turned to their outing.

"I wouldn’t mind talking about astronomy," Sousuke placated him. "Or botany, or astrology, or engineering."

"I love engineering," Kisumi reached up to trace as Sousuke’s collarbone, visible where his robes had slid down when they changed position. "It’s fascinating how one person can have an idea, and it changes how things work forever. That’s why I’m glad I’m in this city, too. The modern systems, the pipes bring up water from the underground lakes… There have been so many brilliant minds in this city’s walls."

For a moment, he stopped to think about the things that would be different, if the one person who thought of each idea that made the city great had not been there. Kisumi believed a lot in individuals - each person had the power to make change happen.

"This city is great," Sousuke agreed, though with less enthusiasm. He looked pensive, resting a hand on Kisumi’s lower back. "And it’s a ruler’s duty to leave it greater than they found it. This great city is mine to improve… but a great mind isn’t easy to find, and the time to pry ideas from one is scarce."

He turned his head to watch their horses milling about as they nibbled at the grass.

"I think a good king attracts good minds," Kisumi mused. "A king who listens to his people."

He stopped, deliberate, feeling Sousuke’s shoulders become slightly less tense. He listened to his people, always, and clearly knew what Kisumi hinted at.

"And a king who gives others a chance, a king who’s willing to trust," he continued, dotting a kiss between every point, having propped himself up on his elbows. He stopped to laugh a bit. "A beautiful king, too. That’ll attract great minds who want to kiss you even if you don’t approve their insanely expensive new plans."

Sousuke rolled his eyes, stole the third kiss before Kisumi could.

"Enough," he reprimanded, eyes half-lidded and contented. "I think it was a good idea to allow you to court me."

Darting in, Kisumi pressed a kiss to Sousuke’s forehead.

"So, a concubine on trial period?" he grinned, thinking of the way he’d heard the concubines dressed; loose trousers and no shirts, on display as symbols of the beauties that loved their king so that they were willing to devote their life to him.

"I should think so," Sousuke smiled, finally, faintly. "But maybe more of a permanent position, because you don’t seem like you would enjoy the limited access of a trial period."

Shaking his head, Kisumi agreed. He intended to make use of his new position to put his prince in some he’d never even thought of before.


	2. honey coated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisumi plots.

Kisumi, after the public announcements, was well-accepted. A pretty foreigner with secret words that made their prince smile, and a noble, regal bearing made the people love him. Someone like Kisumi could clearly make a life for himself anywhere he went, and it was exceedingly, blatantly clear he stayed for love of the prince.

Quickly, the servants had dressed him to stay by Sousuke's side, and no guards hovered protectively between them anymore as Sousuke admired the work done by the handmaidens. Black pants covered by a delicate pink chiffon covered Kisumi's legs, and gave way to gold, delicate chains laced through with pink jewels, as if a spider had spun a web of luxury around him. A subtle golden circlet peeked from his hair to compliment the elaborate ear-cuffs, and Kisumi had joked he ought to get his nipples pierced as concubines often did, to give the servants one more place to decorate. Sousuke had rolled his eyes, but secretly, Kisumi could tell he was delighted.

Every day he would sit by Sousuke's side for the day's matters brought up by citizens from far and wide, and weigh in where his opinion was asked, and smile at the polite masses waiting for an audience. They never touched him - were not permitted to, by law.

Back in their rooms, on the luxuriously large bed, Sousuke groaned and covered his eyes. Headache or stress, Kisumi wasn't really sure. Sousuke loved him - of that, he  _could_  be sure - but he had never been the type to inspire deep, heartfelt conversations, and leave anyone with a sense of peace. He was thrill, excitement, a bit of risk that would last forever for Sousuke.

Slowly, he rolled over, letting out a deep sigh. At the edges of the bed, the wind played with the gauze drapes meant to be drawn closed and block out the morning sun. He rested his chin on Sousuke's chest and nipped at his collarbone to draw a reaction, and was rewarded with another long, drawn-out groan, though this one was slightly more theatrical, a little more playful in the mild smile caught at the edge.

"Something wrong?" he asked, no idea how to offer comfort but with kisses. Back home, his problem solving skills had stretched to doing as he was told, or running away, and he had no desire to leave Sousuke.

"A lot of things on my mind," Sousuke admitted, dropping the arm to look down at him. His eyes looked slightly red, and he hadn't slept well in days, ate too little, and walked slightly oddly, slightly hunched.

"No gods to pray to?" Kisumi suggested, though he had to concede that his own relationship with gods was shaky on its feet, and his faith on the verge of cracking. When Sousuke just looked hesitant, he got up first - and untangled himself from the elaborate sashes on Sousuke's robes where his jewelry had snagged and tangled. "Though your clothes don't want to let me go, let's get up. Show me your churches. Even if you don't pray, it'll do us good to be in the fresh air and sunshine."

Completely untangled, he held out a hand and tugged Sousuke up, noting the wince following it. Ah - it made sense, all things considered. He was still working on tearing down the walls that years of tutoring had built around Sousuke's heart and trust.

"It's up to you to lead the way," he tangled their fingers together, following contentedly until they reached what Sousuke's people considered a church - much like their own it was filled with benches in many rows, but rather than uncomfortably wooden, perfectly straightbacked and cold, they looked comfortable, covered in soft, coloured cushions that invited people to sit on them. At the moment - eating time - the church was empty save for a young man in green robes straightening the cushions, inspecting which ones would need to be washed. The roof was made of glass that let the sun shine in on them.

"It's to let us see the stars," Sousuke offered quietly, squeezing his hand when he saw Kisumi looking. "When we die, we burn, and join the stars in the sky. Each soul will become a star until the gods pluck one from the skies, and place it in the growing life in a woman's belly. No matter the life and troubles we face now, our souls will rest in the sky, then experience new things."

The young man had straightened up, drifted closer, and Sousuke carefully did not lay eyes on him.

"It's a beautiful creation story," Kisumi smiled, more at the young man than at his lover. "In my lands, you die and go to eternal joy or eternal misery - and with the vast amount of rules our priests preach, there is very little chance you will never break one of them. I think I'd much rather find myself with your gods, and maybe place my star in your skies."

The young man was perhaps Sousuke's age, or a bit younger, but he doubted it. He looked familiar in this place hidden within the palace, and it would explain the awkward silence that stuck between them despite the gentle, affectionate air the boy had about him. Boy. Kisumi almost scoffed at himself, he only had five years on them.

"Have you been in the palace long?" Kisumi asked, smiling as widely as he could. He swept in, slipping his fingers from Sousuke's to sling an arm around the man's shoulders. He tensed, eyes flicking from Sousuke, to Kisumi's nipples, the jewels, back up to his face as he went red. Very few had the joy of touching a concubine, or even being close. A look at Sousuke's thunderous expression hinted that the excuse of being foreign, of forgetting, would not be good enough this time. "Longer than I have, for certain. Have you know Sousuke that long? A prince must be devout, and certainly someone as lovely as you is a reason to believe a god exists!"

The thunderous look intensified at the slight stammer. The boy - brown hair, lovely green eyes like his home's spring grass or eternal trees - seemed lost for word at his closeness, his mouth running without filter. Well, no matter. He would pry the story from Sousuke later, and a peaceful man of god was the perfect candidate to soothe worries in a way Kisumi could not.

"I met his highness when we were six," the boy spoke up eventually. "I'm Makoto - our family has always had one child come to the church, and the palace church was the first I visited... Prince Sousuke was here when I ran in, and I think if he hadn't said something, I would've been the youngest prisoner the palace had ever seen for barging in on a royal visit!"

Sousuke was inspecting the ceiling with intense scrutiny. A lively, bright smile from Makoto would have easily captivated a young Sousuke, and a protective gesture from someone as grand as a prince would have done the same vice versa.

"We'll have to come by on more royal visits, then!" Kisumi laughed, darted in to peck his cheek, and stole Sousuke back to their rooms.

-

"He's nice," Kisumi mentioned later, and needed not explain who he meant at the sharp look in Sousuke's eyes. It was the look he had had when Kisumi had asked to be announced to the public (so soon, he would be so out in the open, in danger), and begged Sousuke not turn away the dignitaries from his homeland in fear they would upset him.

"He  _is_  nice," Sousuke repeated, pointedly offering him a chewy tart full of dates that he chewed slowly and swallowed, thinking of what to say next. Truly, he wanted to bring up other things - but he would need a majority in numbers for that, and the topic of Makoto would be easier when he could tempt the man in question to their bed with his soft mouth and bold words mingled with the fascination that had swept through those green eyes.

"Have you always found him quite so nice?" Kisumi poured more wine, a delicate white coloured wine with flavours of lime and pepper that ought to be awful, but rather turned out heady and fresh. It was strong; he had overindulged in it within his first few days on land, and offered the full dish to Sousuke's lips now, who pointedly sipped lightly and pulled away.

"He was larger than life and smiled constantly as a child," Sousuke gave up pretense of innocence in the face of Kisumi's pleading pout. "And he's not changed as an adult, but he's a man of god, now."

"Harems are blessed by the gods," Kisumi protested, well aware men of god were able to be concubines, and set about showing Sousuke the heaven a harem could bring.

-

The next day, he found himself cloud-gazing, rather than stargazing, enjoying the bustling sounds of people around him. Kisumi preferred crowds, and noise, and an air of common life around him. In all honestly, he couldn't wait until the harem was complete, different personalities throughout so each of them would always be contented, cared for, and find the arms needed that day.

"Welcome back, my lord," Makoto offered him dried apple slices, drizzled with honey and chopped nuts, and Kisumi felt at ease immediately. He motioned for Makoto to sit with him and shifted closer, their thighs touching lightly.

"Kisumi will do fine," he offered, licking honey from his fingers, tempted to lick it from Makoto's. He let his eyes linger a fraction too long on purpose, and couldn't catch Makoto's wide eyes after when they darted from Kisumi's licked fingers to the bared nipples; one freshly pierced as a surprise for a tired Sousuke, still sore and red from the needle. "Makoto, will you dine with us tonight?"

He lay a hand on one strong leg, reassured by the muscle in it. He was as big as Sousuke, if perhaps slightly smaller, and together with Kisumi would present a strong front; more than Kisumi alone (too bright or too dark all the time), they would reassure Sousuke into leaning on them, he hoped.

"I-" Makoto paused for a second, and finally caught his eye, skeptical but curious. Whatever he saw there, in the expression Kisumi tried to make as honest as possible, it convinced him. "Yes."

-

He came early, as Kisumi had quietly suggested, and apologized for being empty handed.

"There's little you can bring a man who has a palace at his feet, besides yourself," Kisumi soothed, kneeling again at their low dining table, at the moment empty of dishes but covered with books on law; they were hard to read for him. Even as a noble raised to excel, reading a language from across the sea had not been his priority. The librarian had been kind and had fetched him a dictionary after compiling him a stack of books on the laws of concubines - and marked chapters on those who could not become one. Next to the books was a small jar of the cream that smelled of aloe vera and was blissfully cooling to the slowly decreasing ache in his nipple. Slowly, he added some more and winced, drawing a concerned look from Makoto.

"Does it hurt?" his hands hovered to help immediately, kneeling close and wrapping his hands around Kisumi's wrists to peer at it and the golden jewelry. In his concern, he'd paid no heed to the laws that warned him from touching Kisumi.

"Yes," he nodded, but smiled. "Only a bit. Not so much as I suspect our prince is hurting."

Concern strengthened on Makoto's face, as he'd hoped it would, but he respectfully didn't ask. Slowly, sitting close, he teased information from Makoto in sly questions. The way Sousuke had always returned to the chapel and been quiet and respectful, offered funding for new cushions, offered appearances at events, and simply talked about their scripture or the stars. His tone carried the faintest hints of love, more than lust.

"And the church? You love it too?" Kisumi settled more comfortably, leaning against Makoto's strong chest. Gentle fingers worked their way around to let warm hands rest on his hips. It was nice - warm, safe. He longed to have Sousuke on the other side, his big body curling around the both of them too.

"I do," Makoto confirmed, comfortable now they were past being strangers. "But it's the worship I love more than anything. I really love our gods, but that can be done anywhere..."

As he trailed off, Sousuke entered, hand slipping from where it was rubbing at his shoulder at the sight of them.

"Whose harem is this?" he asked, humor in his voice despite the slightly snarky tone. He stripped off his outer robes (jewel green and heavy), and rang for the servants to prepare dinner. The rumors that would float when they saw Makoto holding Kisumi... his stomach twisted in anticipation as Sousuke seemed to follow the same train of thought with dread.

"Ours," Kisumi stated, chin slightly up in his best impression of a noble brat. It drew a laugh from Makoto until Sousuke stopped short. "Any new addition must be approved by us both, and I have decided to give mine in this case."

This time, Makoto stopped short, and he could see the confused expression from the corner of his eye.

"As you may remember from becoming an addition, we don't decide for people that they become part of the harem," Sousuke crossed his arms, broad arms leading to broad shoulders.

"He loves you like I do," Kisumi protested, squirming to sit up straighter, still pressed close to Makoto, and turned to look at him closely. "Right? Haven't you loved him since you were six?"

Put on the spot, Makoto nodded, stealing Sousuke's breath of protest.

"Sousuke has, too," Kisumi confided as if it were a secret. "He thinks you're beautiful, and kind, and I think he needs someone like you to soothe his soul the way I can't."

Hurt, maybe guilt, flashed over Sousuke's face. Perhaps for making Kisumi feel untrusted, he guessed, and almost rolled his eyes.

"He has you," Makoto protested, and Kisumi was more and more convinced that for all they hailed from the land of harems, they weren't very good at them.

"And he should have you," Kisumi said with confidence. Even in the harem, Makoto could worship, could watch stars, and would even have more power to help those in need. "And three more like us."

The reminder of three more seemed to shock them both from their locked gazes. For a second it made Kisumi wonder if they regretted - if Sousuke regretted taking another besides Makoto, or if Makoto could not live to share.

"I'm really nothing special," Makoto started.

"You're everything special," Sousuke interrupted, mouth getting ahead of him for once. Makoto's arms tightened around Kisumi, even when he glanced down and knew it to be him.

"You don't mind?" he asked, suddenly more nervous than he had been, but with a spark of lust behind his eyes.

"I orchestrated this," he laughed, putting a hand on Makoto's face. "You need only say yes."

Without hesitation, Makoto nodded, taking in Sousuke; dressed casual in his inner sanctum, close to relaxing and conceding rare smiles over dinner, talk for hours, and share food. He took in Kisumi; beautiful and bold and foreign, like luxurious paintings come to life to cause mischief beyond control with his beautiful mouth. Before he could lose confidence he darted in and stole a kiss from Kisumi, his first ever but well worth it.

"I think our prince is jealous," Kisumi laughed against his lips, tasting of the honey-coated apple slices. "Maybe it really is my harem."

Almost sulking, Sousuke knelt behind Kisumi and slumped until he was comfortable, arm close to his body. Tomorrow, Kisumi thought to himself as he was pressed slightly between two bodies as Sousuke and Makoto shared their first kiss that lasted long enough he felt ever so slightly left out. Sousuke looked overwhelmed; to have a man of god give up his church for a harem... even back home, to Kisumi, it would be humbling.

"I'm feeling distinctly neglected," Kisumi complained, giving them his best kiss-me eyes, biting at his lower lip until they looked at eachother, and tried to decide who would kiss him first. When he gained the confidence of a man, Kisumi thought as he opened himself to a deep kiss from Makoto, and tangled his finger's with Sousuke's, feeling his other hand on his head, Makoto would be a force of nature.

He couldn't  _wait_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank for reading! do let me know about typos. i am a lazy, lazy re-reader.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the support! <3

Sousuke was, for lack of a better word, tired.

His budget meeting had started in the early hours of the afternoon, and he couldn't see an end to it despite the stars coming from behind the shade of the late summer clouds. The air had cooled around him, teasing under the light robes he had worn when he'd dressed quickly, without servants to aid him, but he had no desire to see his council pause and re-start their argument of who deserved more funding, and why.

At this hour, Kisumi and Makoto would be waiting for him. His stomach twisted at the thought of the elaborate meal waiting for him, and at the thought of Makoto picking bits and pieces he'd never had whilst living in the arms of god. When he tried them and hated them, Kisumi would lean forward, begging permission with a pretty look and a small pout until Makoto fed him the morsel. It was ridiculously decadent, but he'd realized from the start Kisumi liked to be spoiled - on his own terms. There was no whining for servants to wait on him hand and foot, but there was also no escaping Kisumi's demands that someone lay with him in the gardens and keep the cold air from his nude skin.

Most often, in the late summer period, where plans were made and budgeted for the slightly colder months, Makoto filled the role of human blanket. Several months, almost a year ago, Sousuke had thought he would be jealous after having Kisumi alone to himself for months, and had found himself surprised when instead he was glad neither of his lovers spent the day alone.

Sousuke squirmed lightly. Now was not the time to think about Makoto keeping Kisumi from loneliness - he had a fascination for Kisumi's nipples, and finally after a month of Kisumi's purred and pretty begging, he'd found the confidence to play with them whenever he liked. Sousuke didn't think he'd ever get tired of the sight of Makoto's slight flush and his lightly parted lips, gasping in wonder at their sensitivity and the effect they had on Kisumi.

"Enough," Sousuke decided. His council fell still, looking to him. "Find your families and your dinners, my lords. This has gone on long enough for one day."

Two sour faces - the council members who had been arguing - looked back at him amongst a sea of relieved ones, glad to be leaving to rest and start again later. As they left, servants swept in to clear the cups of sweet teas. Sousuke rubbed his temples; just the reports from his advisor and the captain of the guard, and he could go, eat, and rest. As he left and found his way back to his offices, they were waiting for him already.

"So?" he raised both eyebrows, sitting heavily behind his desk. It was a massive thing of dark, ornately carved wood with an abundance of drawers. It had been (still was) his father's, as a gift from his wife's parents. His mother was not from far away, just by the border mountains, and the daughter of a nobleman. He was loyal to the king of one of their neighbouring countries, and it had started a shaky alliance. The other countries to the north still considered him enemy, though - any from their far land found in Sousuke's capital city didn't last long before finding their way to the palace prisons - the lilt in their accents, though beautiful, gave them away.

Sousuke grabbed his notes to write on as his advisor started to ramble.

"The preparations for her majesty's birthday celebrations are all going according to plan," the man ran his finger down his list, pausing until Sousuke was forced to make note. "Your cousins will be attending. I should note that, despite being of marriageable age, Lord Rin has yet to marry, and Lady Gou is of age  _this year_. So closely related to you, they're valuable assets to the crown, and would be a good way to forge alliances-"

Sousuke almost groaned aloud, and wanted to bury his head in his hands. The advisor was his father's advisor, and if he disliked the idea of taking the crown for a myriad of reasons, being able to fire the insufferable man was one of the greatest things to look forward to. He was surrounded by those who was the people around him as objects. His cousins as pawns to check-mate allies with shaky loyalties, or his harem as pretty decorations to his throne.

He glanced up at the advisor still prattling, for a moment. If it were up to his advisor, Sousuke would have emotionless waifs for his harem. A foreigner and a man near to being as big as Sousuke had nearly given him heartattacks, and he felt bad for lamenting it hadn't. Anyone who lacked the sense to see the beauty in his harem ought to be cursed with a lack of eyes; he couldn't think of anything he could disagree with more.

Kisumi was beautiful, of course, with hair like spun sugar and the smile of a god on earth to tempt mortal into his divine embrace, but he was brilliant, infinitely curious, with a mouth that never stopped and political acumen to back it up. He was an asset at a dining table not just for his beauty but for his sly smiles, his subtle, snake-like threats at those who disapproved of Sousuke's dealings. He rarely spoke of life before, not of the truth of it at least, but he had no qualms of curling between them, mouth to Sousuke's ear, and offer freely the chance to be rid of those who plotted against them.

Makoto would always gasp, distraught at the idea of murder, and had to be placated with kisses. Privately, Sousuke enjoyed the size of him. Big and strong, but infinitely gentle and caring. He didn't know a single person, dignitary or servant who didn't feel soothed by his smile.

"I think our prince would enjoy a report on your suggested matches," the captain of the guard broke into Sousuke's thoughts, winking at him when he looked up. Reports. Sousuke couldn't stand them, but it placated his advisor into leaving them be for the evening.

"Would you like to suggest who I take as my bride, too?" Sousuke smiled sarcastically, watching Sera take a seat instead of standing. They had always gotten along just fine, and there was no need to mince words. Sera smiled back at him, slipping his sword belt off his waist to lay it next to him and sit comfortably. If he wasn't so eager to head back to his chambers, Sousuke would have rung for wine.

"No," Sera shrugged slightly, hands folded in his lap. He had no list of issues; they had long since agreed that he had the authority to decide on most situations without referring to the royal family. "Though I'd be tempted to criticize your harem."

His voice held no acid, and kept Sousuke from taking offence as he would have with anyone else. Instead he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head just a slight.

"You're making me wonder if it's not time to settle down, when I see you sneaking off to your rooms after a long dinner," Sera laughed lightly. He'd always said he would never settle, too unwilling to draw a lover into the danger of living with one of the targets of assassins. If the captain of the guard crumbled, so too did the defences. "You look happier with them."

Sousuke refused to meet his eye, and instead crossed out the notes he had made the day before and taken care of. Eventually, Sera sighed and continued.

"There's not much to report today. The city guard picked up a Laran citizen, though," he was watching, waiting critically for Sousuke's head to shoot up. They shared the same distaste for punishing all citizens from their enemy country, but there was little he could do to change the law until he took the throne, except set each one free. Another headache he would have to attend to.

"Bring him to the private audience chamber tomorrow," Sousuke rubbed his temples. "I'll speak to him myself. I trust he's been treated well."

"In the palace, he has been," Sera nodded cryptically, and couldn't quite bring himself to smile.

After a small chat, he said his goodbyes, and sought his own bed.

-

"Are you certain you should meet a prisoner alone?" Kisumi questioned later, sated and comfortable, fingers tangled with Sousuke's while Makoto cuddled up behind him, dozing lightly.

"He shouldn't be a prisoner at all," Sousuke ignored the scolding look, and leaned forward to steal a kiss. He knew Kisumi was worried, but there was a point where he had to make his own decisions.

"Be careful," Kisumi murmured into his kiss, with a warning kind of note that said he would not be far off. Inside, it soothed something in Sousuke.

-

The next morning, he was  _furious_.

The Laran native had nice blue hair, dark as most of them did, and a small, pretty mouth that disappeared when he curtesied. When he rose again, he still had a blue bruise that had blossomed across his left eye under the eyeglasses with a wrought red frame, and dark dust ruining his silver jacket and deep blue trousers. Of course, he may have come across them innocently, but the odds of it were worse than the odds his father would decide to abdicate before he was forced to.

Sousuke stood and shook out his robes, untangling them from where sitting had folded them before. Light streamed in from the high windows, catching on the dark jewels at his ears and on his fingers. The servants seemed to enjoy dressing him in dark colours and dark jewels; Kisumi often told him it made him look imposing, powerful, before he set to removing them. The Laran native cringed as he came closer and took him by the chin, tilting his head up to the light.

The bruise looked fresh and sore, proven by the soft gasp when he touched it gently.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded, using the voice he always did with strangers. Sterner than was his wont, more clipped.

"The city guard was less than kind when they made some inquiries about my background," the man - boy, Sousuke realized, little over seventeen, if that - said. The words rolled off his tongue as if they were only lightly there. Each harsh sound - every time a word contained an r - air seemed to fill the part of word he couldn't quite grasp. He seemed frustrated by his own accent, not noticing Sousuke's curious looks.

It was a pretty accent, near delicate, and easy on the ears.

"Why  _are_  you here?" Sousuke released his chin, and stepped away to ring for a healer. When he turned, it was only to catch a nervous look - the kind people had when trying to think of a lie they would not be caught in. He stifled an irritated sigh. "What's your name?"

That one, he could get an answer on.

"Ryugazaki Rei," he curtesied again, arm curled in front of his tummy and one foot behind the other, bending at the waist. Briefly, Sousuke wished he had seen it from another angle, and the voice that sounded oddly like Makoto scolded him for it. "I... I'm here to explore your lands. They're very, very beautiful! The rich culture is stunning to see up close, and so much better than in books! No book ever told me that the market mostly smells of honey, or that the sand burns your bare hands at midday, or how your language is both lyrical and rough when spoken by natives.

"They never told me that the palace feels like a maze covered in beautiful fabrics, or that an audience hall is quite so pretty when you see it up close, or that people will try to offer you their wine in an attempt to trick you and take you to their bed - though I've yet to fall for it, your Highness, I know better. Nothing ever prepared me for weaving through the markets! The amount of people is fascinating, and there are so many  _things_ , like the wines - I've never seen such variety in one place - and the sweetmeats the vendors sell. I even saw Laran jewellery there, and we've yet to even be allowed in your lands! I saw fabric from the Great Desert, and books from here that make me want to scream for the knowledge in them!"

Rei broke off, a slight flush on his face from excitement, and Sousuke found himself oddly endeared.

"Stay in the palace, then," he offered without thinking, and refused to let his own shock show on his face. "The true experience here isn't found by not wearing our clothing, drinking our wine, and having a proper meal."

Rei looked like a nobleman's son, but he didn't grin like one. He was all coiled tension at the shoulders, like he held himself back from grabbing Sousuke by the hand, until he exploded in a shower of gratitude and praise, only interrupted by the healer.

"See to his eye," Sousuke told the healer amidst Rei's long-winded recital of what he knew of Tavairan medicine. "See him to the guest rooms afterwards. Send a servant to feed him and inform me of which rooms he is in."

With his head held high, he left, Rei's babbling following him into the hallways, and lingering in his ears during his next three meetings.

His father had always portrayed Laran's people as cold, unbending, and whilst he had always known they couldn't all be that way, he'd never been confronted with someone so hungry for knowledge and so unabashedly interested in everything around him.

It was, for lack of a better word, completely innocent. While Makoto was similarly gentle, sometimes oblivious, he was content to take life as it came and let the gods guide him, read and stay where life had put him. Sousuke loved it - it made his palace feel more homely and like he would always return, but a hunger for knowledge would spur them all to better themselves if only slightly.

"I see you met him," Sera said quietly when they left their meeting together. "I saw him first."

He had a challenging grin, the kind he had had as a child when they would explore the abandoned wing of the palace, and Sousuke was never one to say no to a challenge.

"If I want him, I will have him," Sousuke tilted his head back, looking down his nose with his best princely sneer and royal posture. Next to him, Sera squared his shoulders before sliding him an almost playful look.

"We'll see," he replied, breaking off and leaving as a servant bowed next to them and waited.

"Your guest has been placed in the ruby guest room, your Highness. The kitchen staff have provided him with a dinner. Is there anything else you would like us to do?"

Briefly, Sousuke considered seeking advice from his harem; Kisumi he had been lucky with, and he had won the gamble he had taken on him. Makoto he had known since childhood and seen to be kind, but Rei... he was an enemy nation's son and one he had spoken to once. There was little going for him if he decided to take a pursue a third person at random and hope it turned out well, regardless of the sweet naivete that clouded Rei.

Decision made, he beckoned the servant to follow him. For now, he would get to know Rei, and if he deemed him worthy, he would introduce him to his harem. It was about time he pursued someone, rather than being pursued.

"Fetch some more servants, and some clothes that will fit our guest," he requested, taking a sharp left to find the ruby guest rooms. Inside, Rei had made himself at home on a low seat near the door to the communal guest gardens. Unlike Sousuke's private ones, the guest rooms were set in squares around the gardens, serving eight sets of rooms each. The gardens near Rei's rooms were blossoming red, some of his favourite ones in the palace.

On the low settee he had a book in his hands that had likely been buried in the bookshelf on the east wall of the room, thick and dusty looking. Sousuke wouldn't be surprised if no one had read it since it had been put there, too busy exploring the city during a short stay in the palace. He had no clue if Rei would stay a short while, or perhaps forever; he was only certain he looked starkly out of place in his foreign clothing. It reminded him of Kisumi, and he couldn't suppress a smile. Clearly, his preferences tended towards foreigners who couldn't hold their tongues.

“I hope the rooms suit you,” he offered, startling Rei from his reading. When his head snapped up his hair was a mess, ruffled from running his fingers through it. Sousuke could imagine him getting lost in the palace's impressive library.

“They're very grand, thank you,” Rei left the book behind to stand up and come to him, motioning to the low table, the dishes of food cleared to one side. On the other, the wines were uncorked by servants but not poured. “As is everything that leaves your kitchen! I went to the palace with my father twice as a child, but we didn't eat anything as nice as this when we were there. I'm afraid I've never read which wines match which dishes though, and I wouldn't want to offend...”

He ducked his head slightly as if ashamed of his lack of knowledge.

“Our wine customs are so complicated that I had lessons on them as a child,” Sousuke soothed, picking through the selection for an amber-coloured wine with a dusky scent. It was far from dry but lacked sweetness, perfect for dinners. He poured two dishes of it, waiting for the servants to come rather than starting a lesson. “If you wish to learn, I'm sure it could be arranged. Makoto ought to know wines as well as any native, and he loves to teach. I'm certain Kisumi will never learn. He picked a favourite not long after we met, and I quickly learned he never tires of things he favours.”

“Makoto? Kisumi?” Rei frowned, pausing for Sousuke to call for the servants to enter. If he were to stand on ceremony, Makoto and Kisumi were to be addressed as lords. “Your brothers? I could swear you have none...”

“My harem,” he countered, getting up to cast a critical eye in the chest of neatly folded clothes the tailors has picked based on a rough description of Rei. The silence behind him was telling of Rei's mind reeling to try and come to terms with being confronted with the reality of a harem. Eventually, Sousuke settled on deep red trousers that would sit loose on Rei, covered by a deep red wrap. If he were in his harem, Sousuke wouldn't have to pick further clothes for him. Eventually, he settled on black for Rei's torso, and set the servants to dressing him behind the partition on the other side of the room. He took to it like a nobleman's son, used to being dressed, and emerged pretty, hair combed neatly and a red shawl added by one of the servants, intricately knotted out of sight to drape teasingly off his shoulders and flash slivers of bare skin.

“Sit with me,” Sousuke asked after the servants had left. He lined the bottles up neatly, their illegible labels angled towards him. It allowed Rei the excuse to sit next to him instead of across from him, and he surprised himself by hoping that Rei would forget he was a prince, and take the chance. After a tense minute, Rei took the seat next to him, and touched one of the bottles. It was a dark blue, almost black, with an intense flavour. It wasn't that that made Sousuke laugh, though. Rei shot him a questioning look until he gave in and explained. “That one's called Midnight Tryst, it seemed amusing to me you would pick that one first...”

Rei buried his face in his hands with an embarrassed groan, shoulders hunching inwards to hide him.

“That's absolutely in line with the luck I have! I'm so sorry,” he bared his hands and grabbed a different bottle instead, filled with a golden coloured wine. When Sousuke's lips quirked again, he narrowed his eyes. “I suppose this one is Morning After Glory or somesuch thing.”

“Evening Kiss, actually,” Sousuke looked away teasingly, hands coming up to bare innocently at Rei's accusing stare. “I didn't pick the names, nor the wine... perhaps I gave the wrong impression, ordering a bedroom, evening foods, and clean clothes...”

The shriek that rose next to him tugged the third laugh from him that night, and he found himself looking forward to telling his lovers all about it.

-

“I taught him how to play our cards,” Sera mentioned conversationally, after reporting all was well on the third day of the week. “He seemed to enjoy it very much.”

“He's dining with myself, Kisumi, and Makoto this evening,” Sousuke lied blatantly, which seemed utterly reasonable when he intended to invite Rei to such an event anyway. “He enjoys spending time with me regardless of whether he acquires new knowledge or not.”

Which was strictly true; he had shown Rei the temple, the training yards, and the throne room and watched his awe-struck face before he was inundated with facts Rei had read, wanting to verify their truth. Each time, they had talked for hours, words easy to find between them. In his office, Sera sighed, starting to accept his loss.

-

“Someone is dining with us tonight,” Sousuke breached the topic not long before Rei was set to arrive, announcing it as he entered the room, looking for his lovers and finding them curled up in the late evening sun. Kisumi loved to bask like a cat, and Makoto in turn loved to bask in his simple pleasure. They broke their kisses, slow and gentle and lazy, to look up at him instead. Slowly, Makoto slipped his hands from the back of Kisumi's trousers, making him squirm and sigh at the loss of warmth and the gentle kneading. “I have... seen much of him these past weeks, and would like you to meet him.”

He squirmed in a distinctly un-princely fashion, and turned to shuck his outer robes off instead. As soon as he did, the strong scent of aloe flooded his senses from the bandages on his shoulder. Whilst he hated to be treated like an invalid in his own palace, each time he looked at it, he was reminded of the worry on their faces and the quiet, insistent demands he treat his sore shoulder before it worsened. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn Kisumi would have shouted at him, only held back by Makoto's calming presence and his equally urgent insistence to call the palace healers. In the face of their pleading expressions he'd been powerless, but he hated to admit he did feel better each day the warm wraps worked their healing into his shoulder; a royal heir should not have been so weak to start with.

“Is he pretty?” Kisumi asked, nipping at Makoto's bottom lip in an attempt to beg kisses from him again.

“Is he nice?” Makoto added, making Kisumi roll his eyes. Sousuke wasn't sure if it was because he assumed anyone Sousuke brought home was nice, or if he enjoyed a pretty face that much.

“Both,” Sousuke smiled, and told them about him until he arrived. Young, pretty, voraciously curious and unrelentingly chatty. He would probably love Kisumi and his knowledge from across the sea. By the time he came, Makoto and Kisumi were as curious as he had been.

“Hello,” Kisumi almost purred, quiet, with the lilt he always had to his words when he intended to get something. He tried to untangle himself from Makoto's strong arms but was held back easily, Makoto's serene smile not betraying the way his muscles tensed to keep Kisumi from inappropriate behaviour.

“Thank you for dining with us,” Makoto nodded to the table, full of elaborate foods and wines. “We've heard a lot about you. Including Sousuke's terrible taste in wine. I've picked it this time, so I should hope you enjoy them.”

He shot a teasing smile at Sousuke, eliciting a deep sigh. They always disagreed on wines, tugging Kisumi back and forth to their dishes until he was pliant and sleepy, nuzzling into them for kisses but no more wine, and a good evening's sleep.

“Thank you for having me,” Rei bowed politely, taking a seat when Sousuke's indicated one and sat next to him. “Though I think it's rude for me to mention, I'm not sure why I'm invited... my books say a prince and his harem dining privately is... very private.”

He cringed at the lack of a different word in his vocabulary, hands in his lap as he curiously peeked up occasionally to look at them casually intertwined, Kisumi shooting pleading looks at Makoto when a tasty morsel of food passed him.

“He likes to be spoiled,” Sousuke offered at his looks. “On his own terms. Makoto enjoys spoiling others. As for why you're invited... I wanted to. I've enjoyed our weeks together.”

He hesitated for a second, until Makoto raised both brows as if to ask him why he was waiting. He rested a hand on Rei's knee, then slightly higher.

“And I'd like to discuss you getting to know them better. If you enjoy my company enough that is, and if you enjoy theirs, if you would consider sharing and being shared... there is a possibility of you joining my harem,” Sousuke finished on a deep breath; despite his growing harem, he had never invited anyone to join him before. Across the table, Kisumi was beaming with pride. At twenty-five, five years older than he and Makoto, and eight older than Rei, he was the oldest and most experienced of them.

“I don't know what your books have told you,” Kisumi interjected, drawing Rei's startled gaze from Sousuke to him. “But it's not a kind of slavery. You can say no, now or in the future, to the harem or to something we ask you to do, or ask you to wear, or eat, or read. I almost think you have more freedom – more equality – here than being a noble.”

Behind him, Makoto nodded in agreement, clearly thinking of his own joining the harem. It had been a shell-shock to see a concubine like Kisumi so stubborn, so in control, but Sousuke was a man like any other, and had lovers like equals.

“Can I think about it?” Rei asked, more quiet than Sousuke was used to. He hoped desperately he hadn't scared him off by announcing it in such an inescapable place.

“Of course,” Sousuke nodded, drawing breath to launch into a long tirade that he accepted rejection.

“It's not the done thing where I'm from,” Rei continued, cutting him off. “But I don't like a lot of things where I'm from. This may be something you do better... I just have to think about it, if I can share. But I think... getting to know you both will help.”

He shot a shaky smile to Kisumi and Makoto, clearly bolstered by their encouraging smiles, the lack of pressure. In the lull of silence Kisumi managed to slip from Makoto's arms to slide next to Rei, tugging a dark wine from the middle of the table.

“Before these two start plying you with different wines,” Kisumi whispered loudly, making sure they heard. “I'd like you to try this. It's called Endless Passion, and it's my favourite...”

Long after, when the night had long fallen dark, he called servants to help Rei to his rooms, slightly unsteady on his feet from their battle of wines.

“I like him,” Makoto offered quietly as he kissed Sousuke's shoulder before curling around him, spooning, hands on Kisumi who curled up to Sousuke's chest and hummed in agreement.

-

“Ah, Kisumi!” Sousuke heard, three weeks later. They had met six times over dinners, and he feared that despite the theoretical knowledge Rei was amassing he had become fond of Kisumi's wine, and tended towards it more often than not. He looked up from his desk and the letter he was drafting, watching Rei wave to Kisumi, walking at his advisor's side. Annoyance flooded Sousuke's chest – not even his advisor was meant to visit him without permission. From his perch in the garden, Kisumi waved eagerly until Rei disappeared from view in the gardens and appeared before Sousuke's desk.

“Your Highness,” his advisor bowed, his smug look making Sousuke's skin crawl. “I have some fantastic news.”

Next to him, Rei frowned, looking confused. Why was he there?

“Prince Izumida of Laran has agreed to peace talks. Lord Rei's father has made an appeal to the courts that his son be freed from us, and I have negotiated peace talks in light of this situation,” his chest puffed out, shoulders squared. He reminded Sousuke of nothing more than a pigeon.

“How,” Sousuke asked, standing from his desk and prowling his office. Rei looked at him with wide eyes. “Did he know Rei was here?”

His advisor paled, and Rei's mouth dropped open slightly, turning to stare.

“And who authorised for you to communicate with them?” his eyes narrowed, fingers twitching. “I am not handing over Rei simply to tempt an idiot prince from a frigid nation into the heart of my kingdom where he will make his excuses against peace when he steals this jewel from my hands and flees back to the safety of his lands!”

He was well aware his voice carried, simply loud despite not shouting, and would alarm Kisumi from his garden perch.

“Idiot-” his advisor stammered out, where Rei looked privately amused, clearly less than personally fond of his prince. “Jewel... you mean him!? The foreigner? He snuck into our country without permission and has wormed his way into your pocket to chip away at state secrets!”

Indignation almost floored Sousuke, both with anger and his own sheer belief Rei had no interests beyond learning all things there were to know.

“ _He_  has a name,” Sousuke sneered darkly, tempted to fire the man on the spot, of have him jailed for slander.

“And it would be very hard for me to commute between here and Laran,” Rei added, in the most logical tone of voice Sousuke had ever heard. “A harem member is meant to support the prince at dinners, and other functions, and beyond that, spend a great deal of time with him... going home with Prince Izumida is simply not feasible...”

“Get out,” Sousuke growled to his advisor, watching him flee their room and the next one until Kisumi and Makoto slowly appeared to check what was wrong.

“Truly?” Sousuke questioned, stepping closer and closer until he was close enough to touch, card a hand through Rei's hair and make him look up.

“The idea of going home...” Rei started, blushing slightly. “I realized I would miss you, and your answers to each of my questions, and Makoto's beautiful singing voice, and... and Kisumi's promises to kiss me. He never did, and I don't want to never get them. I want to join your harem.”

He took a deep breath and met Sousuke's eyes, only for a moment until Sousuke stepped close to him, stealing a tiny, closed-mouth kiss.

“Your turn,” he smiled, with a glance to Kisumi and Makoto, eagerly accepting the rain of kisses.


	4. Chapter 4

“I met a pirate at fifteen,” Makoto could just barely overhear Kisumi bragging from the gardens, a pleasant disturbance to his morning prayers. The morning room, so named for how the sun fell inside as it rose, was decorated in tan colours, with pale browns and hints of cream; sober enough to not offend the eyes of princes not yet fully awake.

For once, on the week's seventh day, Sousuke was in bed late. None of them had intentions to wake him – he had plenty to think of lately, between his father's ill health and the foreign threat that sought to use Rei as an excuse to war - and a late morning was nearly a blessing.

“He was taller than Makoto, and twice as muscled. A lot of sunkissed skin-” he smiled slightly as he heard Kisumi break off, the way he'd started to do when he'd realized his past conquests were unpleasant for Makoto to stomach, even if realistically, he knew most of them had lain with another before. He couldn't help but feel displeased at the thought of an intruder, past or present, in their life. However at Rei's excited prompting, Kisumi continued. “He carried curved swords and he had more gold than I've ever seen! In his ships' quarters, he had several chests filled with jewels and silks. Sometimes, if he was in port, I would wear them to society balls, and watch my father's face drop. The idea of his son cavorting with pirates! No one else knew, of course, but it was obvious after he had me followed once... In my defence, I wasn't trying to be discreet.”

“How large a ship was it? Did they sing-” Makoto heard Rei start to shoot off questions, fading as he left the room he was in. The two of them were well-suited, Rei's eagerness to ask questions and learn complimenting Kisumi's desire to talk and sit as the centre of attention.

He was the only one of them who strictly _enjoyed_ attention, Makoto thought to himself. Rei scarcely noticed it often times, save for when he wanted to show the world a bit of antique history he'd found in the treasury. Sousuke on the other hand, was thrust into being lavished with attention, and took it with grace. Personally, Makoto was content to be in private, enjoying his evening meals in their set of rooms.

Pushing away some gauze curtains and breaking away from his introspective musing – morning prayer always did that to him – he checked on their soundly sleeping prince before leaving to find the others.

The courtyard was bright when he found them, with the morning breeze starting to give way to the day's heat. Before them, on the low table was a spread of things not strictly counted as breakfast materials.

Soft, fluffy breads were cut open, having cooled since they were baked, accompanied by full butters and small, quaint jars of preserves. Half of it seemed to be gone, with only crumbs left in their wake, to the even emptier platter of pastries stuffed with chocolate, honey glazed sweetmeats, and delicate porcelain cups filled with a dark liquid – coffee or milk and chocolate, he couldn't tell.

When they noticed him, they fell silent for a second, Kisumi greeting him first. Rei turned a light pink, composing himself before following. Still shy after being with them for the first time a few weeks past – something that had been weeks in the making, but none of them had wanted to take it too quickly for fear of scaring him off.

“A fair morning to you too,” he smiled, seating himself with them, picking at the soft breads before selecting an apricot preserve for it. He sat on Rei's other side, putting him between Kisumi and Makoto. Only then did he notice Kisumi's wandering hand, slyly finding its way into the fashionable trousers Rei had on. They were as usual, but despite the fact they closed at the ankle with a golden band, they had a slit up each side from ankle to upper thigh, teasing at his skin where it had managed to avoid the sun thus far. He had no inclinations towards Kisumi's hobby of nude sunbathing, but he also didn't seem disinclined to the hand steadily disappearing beneath the fabric. “A _very_ fair morning, if it's left up to Kisumi, I see...”

A shameless grin was all the response he garnered from Kisumi, who took being noticed as no detriment to continuing. Rei let out a strangled cry as Kisumi pounced, sending them both toppling until his head was on Makoto's upper thighs, leaving him only to look up and make eye contact, his gaze skittering away immediately when he arched his back and moaned, his stiff cock making an outline in the black fabric of his trousers. 

“He's still loose,” Kisumi offered, his fingers making a soft, slick noise as he pulled them out. They glistened as he tugged off Rei' trousers, leaving him exposed to anyone who would enter their courtyard. “And he's so stiff...”

Kisumi trailed a finger down Rei's cock, circling around the base as he reached it, pumping up and down a few times to make Rei's hips twitch. Sliding down his own trousers, he slid a hand between his own legs, his eyes sliding shut as a pleased smile overtook him. Kisumi was almost always still slick; stealing moments here and there with each of them. He reached out, positioning the head of Rei's cock at his entrance before he sunk down until he was sitting completely. He braced his hands on Rei's chest before moving, his hips gyrating back and forth, keeping Rei's cock deep inside him while stimulating him.

His pace picked up, making him raise his hips higher, tiny moans escaping him to contrast Rei's eager panting and his desperate attempts to hold off on his orgasm until it overtook him, making him come with a cry, tiny tremors running through his body as Kisumi kept moving, milking his own cock with his hand.

He rolled to the side as he caught his breath, happily sprawled on the cushions littering the floor. Before long, he started laughing, making Makoto follow his gaze to a ruffled, sleepy Sousuke, who looks distinctly as if he had been left out of a grand event.

“Makoto's unspoiled still, this morning,” Rei offered, carefully not looking up at Makoto's indignant noise. Clearly, Kisumi was a terrible influence on him. Sousuke did not seem to agree.

-

Several days later, the morning was earlier than usual, with the sun only peeking in. It made the air around them cold, leading to displeased grumbling and a great many attempts to simply stay in bed. The effort was ruined by trusted servants knocking on their door, awaiting their appearance in the large lounge area.

Out of nowhere they had a banquet, sparked by the arrival of a wealthy, noble family from Astren. The country had fickle loyalties, and a strong bond with a family that bore an old name could only be good news, so a banquet it was. They'd each be dressed resplendently, Sousuke sitting at the head of the table in his father's absence. Lately, he took more and more turns for the worse, and the councilmen gossiped at what it could mean – with several of them shooting displeased glances at Sousuke's youth and lack of pliability.

“Up, all three of you,” Makoto demanded, swatting away the warm hands grappling at his thighs and his arms to disallow him from getting up and slipping on a robe. His strength – years of repairs to the prayer hall and lugging back and forth bags of grain – did him good for once, getting him out of bed first. Sousuke followed, tugging Rei with him, until only Kisumi was left, covering his face with a dramatic noise.

To his surprise, Rei lost his patience first.

“Get up!” he almost commanded, folding his arms over his chest and frowning over his glasses. “If you stay much longer you'll start a fight with the tailors and they'll stab us with pins!”

That got Kisumi up faster than light, shivering dramatically despite the fact his homeland was far colder than an autumn morning. Rei was right though – tailors didn't change, no matter which country was involved. Nodding in satisfaction, Sousuke led the way out, his robes only lightly belted as the tailors would have it off in moments anyway. It was lucky none of them were disused to the feeling as a dozen tailors set to fitting new clothing, pinning heavy black cloth with gold embroidery around Makoto's hips, cutting and sewing where needed. They'd be here hours, the time only marked by the jewellers entering to drape them in finery – more of the same trousers for the other harem members, and jewel-green fabric for Sousuke, dipping to show his collarbones. Heavy, dark jewellery decorated him to show off power, grace.

It contrasted the rest of them in their golds – golden chains, earrings, a small nose-stud for Rei and different jewellery in Kisumi's nipples, bars rather than hoops.

“You're the only one not pierced somewhere,” Sousuke remarked as he caught Makoto looking, his own piercing being of a more intimate nature than the others. “Why not your nape, or perhaps between your collarbones...”

He reached out to touch as he spoke, but a jeweller swatted his hand away, uncaring of decorum when doing his job. Perhaps another noble might take offence, but he knew Sousuke preferred that those he paid to do a job did it well, rather than simpering and deferring to his slightest glances. It was part of what made the palace staff like him so; he refused to stand on a system of being better than others.

Kisumi had asked why, once. He and Rei, unused to courts and oft busier exploring or locked in prayer, had never thought so hard about a prince being strong-minded and respectful of servants, but it had made sense after his explanation of his father's absence, his mother's young death and the servants that stepped in to take care of his upbringing when his tutors were only willing to lash him when his lessons were less than perfect.

“I'd rather not be subject to the needle,” Makoto protested, avoiding the gaze of the eager jeweller who had pierced Kisumi, and took great delight in using the new piercings to create more elaborate decorations. He was fairly young and very enthusiastic, no less than extremely vocal. He had the dignity to at least not look too openly disappointed at Makoto's feelings on the matter.

“A shame,” Rei piped up. He was across the room with his head tilted back, a jeweller having made off with his eyeglasses to make them more appropriate for a harem members; shining, overbearing, and beautiful. Truly, Rei didn't mind it, and frequently found old fashions of past harems that he wished to try out. On some it may be unfashionable, but on Rei it seemed to merely be something new every time. Lately, Makoto had seen more nobles start to adopt shawl with mountain patterns, a trend which had fallen out of favour after a fierce battle with the mountain tribes.

As they returned his eyeglasses and finished winding the intricate belts around his hips, Makoto fell silent instead. These events never sat well with him, but the underlying tension in Kisumi sat him even less. As he watched, Kisumi's eyes darted from window to window, on the look-out constantly. He jerked as one of the tailors clapped his hands together, finally done as the sun started to trek down from its high point in the sky.

“All done,” he reassured, them, each of them finally allowed to step from the pedestal and test the restrictions of their evening wear. Soft hums rose around the room, the light catching gold here and there to draw attention. In the kitchens, the servants were likely to be cooking anxiously whilst the great banquet hall was prepared. The only uncertainty were the Astren nobles, and Makoto didn't look forward to seeing trouble where it might come.

-

The nobles were  _late_ .

He could feel Sousuke gradually tense up next to him, picking at bread every now and then to appear casual. Nervous servants milled about, thrown off by the change in a meticulously planned schedule. Across the table, Rei poured wine. 

It was a light thing, a soft pink with a faint shimmer when it was lifted to one of the hundreds of lights in the grand banquet hall. It had a soft, fruity taste to it, easily befitting the Spring Rest name that had been bestowed on it by the people who made it in a small village to the east.

He lifted the dish with a hand on each side to offer it to Sousuke, offering a smile over the dish that was returned in the faint fashion that Sousuke ever tended towards, before sipping at it himself and returning to conversation with one of the councilmen that oft backed Sousuke on his proposals to the council.

“I believe _fashionably_ late passed some hours ago,” Kisumi remarked to him, perhaps a little louder than needed. “And I have been fashionably late more times than I can say.”

Near them, at the next table over, someone tutted their disapproval, likely bitter over not being invited to the prince's table, which held three empty seats.

An hour past, the Astren nobles finally arrived. Dark haired, each of them, wearing thicker clothing than was the wont in Sousuke's Tuvaira. No dust clung to their clothes anymore, but their scarves were pulled up to their noses as they bowed near the entryway, awaiting word on what their late arrival would have caused.

“Come,” Sousuke called eventually, his voice carrying over the banquet hall, which had fallen silent. “You must be famished, and we've quite the feast for you.”

Straightening up, they made their way over with an inherent grace Makoto almost envied. A couple, and a son. He seemed not to smile overmuch, but instead kept a mostly blank face. A mystery then, but one that sat very close to Rei.

“I hope the evening finds you well, your Highness,” he offered, eyes on Sousuke's. 

“And you, Lord Haru. Your journey must have been long and arduous. I hope my deserts offered you no problems,” Sousuke returned politely, offering an excuse for them without prying too much. A simple tale of bandits or missing waypoints would have excused the lateness, and allowed a pleasant start.

“No problems, no,” Haru replied, leaning back as a servant set his starter before him; a small plate of triangular pastries, filled with honeyed meats and a cool, fresh sauce with herbs from the palace gardens. They waited for his continuation as he dipped the corner of one into the sauce, tasting it apprehensively. As he offered no more explanation, the conversation hung stagnant.

“We have duels this eve, don't we?” Makoto brought up to break the silence, noticing the barely-there, anxious looks on the Lord and Lady Nanase's faces. “Rei thought it may be interesting for you to see our duellists first-hand, so we've prepared for them to show this evening.”

With that the silence seemed to crack, and apart from two more odd moments of Haru starting conversation, and finishing it abruptly, he couldn't have wished for it to be smoother.

-

“Hello.”

Quiet, sunny; Makoto tried to get his bearings as the sun greeted him from his mid-afternoon rest, his head in Sousuke's lap in the gardens. He lay still, not waking fully as Sousuke rumbled a greeting in return.

The odd foreigner, the one who had disappeared for a day after the banquet.

“Might I sit with you?” he questioned, and sat before being given permission. Through the tiny sliver of sight he had, he could see guards drawing closer as a precaution.

“Should you wish to do so,” Sousuke offered, setting his book aside. Of course their quiet afternoon would be interrupted. The same silence hung again, Haru's gaze firmly caught by the seas in the distance until he seemed to force his focus on Sousuke instead, opening his mouth and grasping for words.

“A lovely day,” the words were deadpan and rehearsed, and so _clearly_ something he had been told to say that it made Makoto almost cringe.

“Very,” Sousuke smiled, and carried the conversation in the way a prince must when the stake of shaky peace treaties is on the line.

-

“I don't trust him,” Kisumi frowned, pushing the bits and pieces of the board game he'd lost about the table. “He's not getting close to you because he _wants_ to. What's his motive? Why is he seeking you out?”

“Perhaps he doesn't know how to secure the peace bonds, either,” Rei tried to rescue the pieces, slotting them back into their respective boxes when Kisumi took one and held it as far away as possible. “The benefit of the doubt can't hurt.”

-

In the library, he mentioned fireplaces and held silent, then in the gardens of the large pools meant for cooling off on hot summer's days, he showed Sousuke a sliver of personality, a small, pleased glint to his eyes, and the reassurance that the water is always a home.

-

“Perhaps I should marry your cousin,” Haru said, too loudly, in a far too crowded place. His advisor's head snapped up, a hungry undertone to his focus. Gou was lovely; redheaded, fair and feisty. He could only say he loved her dearly--

And that was the exact reason he would never allow himself to marry her off like a necklace on auction. Though the words held no distaste, the lack of passion in his voice and the slightly hunched shoulders, his reluctance to get the words out signalled he didn't want to with every fibre of his being.

“Perhaps you should not,” Sousuke tried to ease him into it, and nearly laughed at the obvious relief there.

-

“Haru, isn't it?” 

He kept a close eye on Rei, Kisumi keeping conversation up next to him as if nothing had happened. Haru sat silent, as normal, as they had adjusted to over time. The requests to marry Gou had started to fade out of existence, slowly but surely, in the same time that the rumours about him had increased. Makoto didn't mind Haru's presence in the royal courtyard, but the guards had narrowed eyes and straighter backs.

“Yes,” Haru broke away from his book to look up and offer an answer. “I assume you're Rei.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking on politics as if they were a distasteful topic. 

“The one from Laran,” he continued, closing his book to set it aside. He looked slightly curious, taking in the bared chest and the kiss marks that littered it. It was impossible to tell if his thoughts were positive or not, but only time would tell.

“Yes,” Rei confirmed, leaning back until his back was to Makoto's shoulder. “I wished to explore the desert and the city, but the guard wasn't quite so happy to allow me to. Sousuke, however... I don't think I've ever had quite so much access to so many parts of a palace before!”

He finished with a smile and was only met with a contemplative hum, Haru picking his book back up keep reading. 

_Rude_ , Kisumi's thoughts almost flashed on his face, before he slipped back into a smile and a recount of the time he got lost in the Sollen mountains in winter.

-

“Do you still have designs on Lady Gou?” a noble asked, over dinner, with the glint of gossip in his eyes. He had heavy robes on for the autumn evenings, and thinning hair the colour of wet sand. He devoutly came to the temple, or at least he had, when Makoto still served there. He sat at their table with several others; three councilmen and a fellow noble, along with his advisor, Sera, and several ambassadors.

His hands were folded on the table and laden with rings as he awaited Haru's answer.

“If he truly wishes to marry Lady Gou, we'll do our utmost to see it happen!” Lord Nanase interjected, causing silence to fall until someone coughed, drew attention, and brought up the impending festivities.

They'd turned to Sousuke, tentative, to ask his opinion of the fire dancers coming for the night in a few weeks. It was seen as impolite to attend whilst a family member lay bedridden, but perhaps worse to have no royal present.

“Well-” Sousuke started, and immediately broke off as Haru pushed him sideways, toppling off the dais they sat on and behind several layers of thick, heavy curtains monitored by the guards before and after each entrance. Immediately, Makoto followed, his heart in his throat. Haru had been growing on him – the silences, the odd hilarious remark, and the slight air of sadness. Kisumi and Rei followed, stopped short by loud gasps as guards found an arrow – then a second, a third barely missing them. It fell from a completely different angle than the others, designed to go behind the curtains if it had followed far enough.

They pushed behind the heavy fabric, bodies blocking the entrance to it as Sousuke fumbled with a key further down the wall, revealing a tiny grip that allowed the panel to be moved just enough for him to fit through. They followed one by one, stopping to let Rei lock it closed again, taking left turns and right turns until it felt near maze-like rather than just secret.

The eventual room they came to was fully dark but had a slight, cold breeze, and the underlying scent of a place underground, barely covered by the scent of incense or smoke when Sousuke lit a lantern, positioned perfectly next to the entrance, with the needed stones to light it in a holder to the left. 

With the lamp in his hand, Sousuke lit the lanterns in the room around them, revealing walls draped in deep red finery, and a large bed in the southeastern corner. Books and several game sets were neatly lined up in a dark wooden bookcase, next to an open chest full of extra supplies for light. Around the room were several exits, each equipped to be sealed with heavy bars of thick wooden panels. A safe room, probably accessible from throughout the palace if one only looked in the right places.

For a moment they stood in a tense silence, waiting for the sound of assassins following them, but when none came, it was Haru who spoke first.

“His shadow fell into the banquet hall,” Haru offered, answering the question none of them had asked: how had he known an arrow was coming? “The moon was behind him.”

“An amateur, then,” Kisumi chimed in, taking his seat on the bed and running a hand through his soft hair. He looked suddenly tired, but moreso than that, furious. Kisumi very rarely allowed sadness or exhaustion, and instead focused positively. Seeing him furious was frankly terrifying. “It's not hard to see why they would try. Any of your allies would be unhappy if you formed a close bond with Astren... They have a strong ground military to compliment your navy. If you worked together, it would be even more unwise than it is already to start a war with you.”

He stood, pacing the room, rifling through the chests. For what, Makoto wasn't sure.

“True enough,” Sousuke agreed, his mouth set in a grim line, and wine staining his clothing where it had spilled on him from his dish. “But that begs the question, why _you_? Why are you so insistent upon marrying Gou, when clearly you have no desire to, and the crown could pick many a man to send. They could have sent an _ambassador_ , had they wished to start an alliance.”

Haru's face was equally grim as he checked the hallway closest to him, his shoulders slightly hunched. He heaved a deep sigh before sitting, the chest under him creaking slightly with age.

“It's money,” Haru confessed, and he hadn't thought of Haru as such – money hungry seemed not to define him. “Father invested in several bad ventures, and the banks claim us almost destitute. It would be a scandal.”

A small frown line appeared between his eyebrows, one Makoto was near certain he wouldn't have had before the ordeal had started. It wasn't hard to gather that being destitute was a disaster. Nobles, after all, were particularly unsuited to being anything  _but_ nobles.

“I've no clue who gave the order,” Haru confessed, his hands fisting in the fabric of his trouser. “But were Lord Mizaki to withdraw his.. _generous funding_ , there's no option but for us to declare bankruptcy.”

Makoto glanced from Haru to Sousuke as the explanation finished, certain Sousuke would not allow a family to just fall into poverty in cold blood. He was clearly thinking when Haru spoke up again.

“There's a solution I thought of, however,” Haru offered, drawing all the attention in the room to him, followed by several soft, questioning noises. “Were mother and father to remain in this palace indefinitely, as your guests-”

He stopped, as If gauging the likelihood of Sousuke agreeing.

“And if I were to join your harem, it would be impossible for myself to engage with Lady Gou, my family would not fall into poverty, and our benefactor could not raise a fuss without making it clear he had designs and ulterior motives.”

Kisumi laughed first, quietly, and cut off at the sharp look from Rei.

“You'll never be _free_ if you join the harem, though,” he warned. “It's for life. For us it's fine, because we're in love. But you'll be trapped in a world where no one can touch you. You'll never have a lover – besides us, the world will think.”

His gaze was piercing, and Makoto could understand. What they had was sacred to him, too, and the thought of someone sitting on the sidelines, part of them but not quite, was daunting.

“I think,” Haru started, slowly, weighing the words on his tongue. “I'll be far freer than if I were to stay in Astren.”

Slowly, Sousuke stepped closer, searching Haru's face, his eyes for sincerity.

“You three...” he seemed to hesitate, then didn't continue at their nods.

“Even this will tie Astren closer to you. It'll be a building block for an alliance,” Kisumi argued, displeased but willing to agree with it. 

“Come tomorrow, you'll sit with us more. Next week we'll announce it, should you still wish to continue it,” Sousuke agreed, stealing a kiss, testing how naturally it would come, how easily they could fake his inclusion in the harem. “And we will find out exactly _who_ has designs on my life.”

Hours later, Sera found them, sword at his hip, in silence. Makoto hoped that in time, enough love would come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so-- Sousuke gains a fourth, if only partially... next time, who exactly has designs on Sousuke's life? How will Haru fit in once he no longer has to force himself to be someone interested in a marriage? Tune in for the next episode of Prince Sousuke's Very Attractive Harem


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late, short-ish chapter, but i've had an influx of very nasty comments including personal attacks and attacks on my writing lately that have sort of killed my motivation to write, but hey-ho. we're progressing in terms of plot! sexy redheads! woo!

The days after the attempted attack were tense. The guards increased, the swords at their hips no longer decoration but rather a warning – the palace was warm, but not soft, and their prince would not be vulnerable.

One of the guards nodded to Rei as he passed, his eyes flicking to the walkways behind him, covered by a deep red curtain. The room beyond it was a storeroom without windows, and there was no entrance beyond this one, but... to hurt their prince, hurting the harem was but the first and foremost of many.

“A fair morning,” his voice was deep, in contrast to the more high-pitched voice of Rei's other guard. They had sat silent during the early hours of the morning while Rei woke in the library, coming to with strong tea and a journal entry of the previous day. He knew many found it odd, how he wrote in the mornings rather than the evenings, but the evenings were often too full to think of ink and paper. In the mornings, Makoto worshipped the stars shrinking back into the heavens, and Sousuke favoured to sleep as much as Kisumi if his schedule willed it.

“And you,” Rei smiled, his journal in his hand as he passed them by to find their dining room, hopefully already laid out with food. He'd never been able to stomach eating when he first woke, but the Tuvairan palace made it a tempting offer when the kitchen staff worked so hard.

The clinking of plates and delicate cups made his hopes rise even more, joy slipping into his heart at the sight of it – breakfast, and less expectedly, Haru.

He wasn't sure how he was meant to treat him, though it was a slight pleasure to no longer be the newest member of the harem. Perhaps Kisumi would cease bullying him with clandestine fondling or raunchy tales of travel, or Makoto would cease worrying that their affections may spook him off. Mostly, he hoped Haru's political intrigue would take some of the heat off his own. The attack and Haru's strange, quiet presence had almost distracted him completely from the looming threat from his home country, only deterred by Tuvaira's shaky but still-standing alliances.

As he entered, Haru's eyes flicked up to meet his, going back to his plate a second later. The quiet made a clear hint to how he could progress, so he sat instead, filling his plate with flat, rounded savoury breads, piling them with cooked, thin slices of meat and goat's cheese from the mountains, finding whole, tiny tomatoes to accompany it. He flattened one and rolled the bread together, picking it up to flavour it with a lightly spiced sauce in a small bowl.

It was only a light meal, with little cooking required, allowing the kitchens to not heat too much and make it more bearable for the heat of the day to come. Soon, winter would strike and it would be broths and thick breads, but for now the light breakfast would suffice. It made him curious to Haru's – fish, with little accompaniment.

It wasn't something he'd ever read of as being tradition in Astren, and his staring caught attention rapidly.

“I enjoy it,” Haru informed him, a tiny smile twitching at the corner of his lips. He must have been frowning, probably biting at his lip; Makoto often reminded him he'd give himself a headache if he frowned quite so hard, quite so much.

“I apologize,” Rei focused quickly on his tea, the sweet scent cheering him immensely. The smell of fruits native to Tuvaira reached his nose and he wouldn't have minded having them, too. They were small and rounded, with pink-white flesh on the inside. At home, they had been a nightmare to import, almost on par with the coffee beans that refused to grow in Laran soil. “It's rude to stare no matter where you're from.”

Briefly, he considered sugar, but left it as it were when Haru reached for salt instead.

“I suspect there will be a lot of staring,” Haru shrugged, his robe slipping from his shoulder. He had exceptionally pretty skin. It was on par with Kisumi for its pale quality, hidden under heavy robes, but the more exceptional thing about it was the pure flawlessness of it. Rei could find no freckles or marks, and not even a scar on any of the skin Haru showed. Little by little, it became more skin. Mornings seemed to accept Haru only because he forced himself on them, and they treated him with little grace.

His hair stood askew, though his eyes were sharp as ever. His robe was even worse, slipping from both his shoulders to tease at his chest, and sliding off the loose sleeping trousers he had on. Why he bothered, Rei wasn't sure. He supposed it was cold to sleep alone, where Haru took the guest room to himself. In Sousuke's bed there was little chance to avoid a hot body to warm the cold, breezy nights. Perhaps sleeping alone made blankets insufficient.

“I hope it decreases as you stay here, but it would be nice to know you,” he couldn't quite read the emotion that flickered behind Haru's eyes, but it felt like a dark place to tread, so he sat straighter instead, and asked about the fish. Perhaps next week, or the week after, he could ask about those dark places. Between the five of them, they had plenty.

-

In the afternoon, his guards discouraged him from exploring the forests. Isolated, full of bandits, enemies, possibly the ones who had already shown their displeasure to the current rule. Instead, he took tea with a noblewoman interested in his history and his knowledge of her language.

Plenty spoke it, but not quite with as much passion as Rei. The city squares offered many tea houses and wineries to enjoy over a chat, but it was for rare reasons a concubine left the palace, often in secrecy when it was needed. Instead he opted for the red rosed gardens where he had first been kept. They offered pleasant memories of his first meetings with Sousuke where they truly talked, and their pleasant ease had set him to rest. Sousuke's deep laughter had calmed his lingering worries from the city prisons near immediately.

“It's horrifying, what happened,” Kiyoko offered as she arrived and sat, her dress flaring out around her. It was not to the Tuvairan customs, but instead of her homeland. He'd come to like her quickly, as two strangers in a foreign land. He heard often that she spoke little, but their conversation had never run dry, even in the common tongue. When he had delighted her with his language skills, they had broached even more topics than before. He knew it as well as any person who spoke more than one language – to express something in another language, and to translate it mentally first, grasping just past the right word, could be frustrating, and even years of practice would sometimes not prevent it. “I should hope they've caught the conniving cheat who ordered the action already.”

Her blunt opener made him falter for a second, slipping milk on the glass surface of the wrought-iron table. He didn't know why he had expected anything but; whilst she was a lady in every aspect, she was hardly demure. Unmarried by choice, a frequent host of tea-parties, and the backer of one of the city's most notorious mercenary guilds; he had found her a delight from the start.

“We're all shocked, of course,” he agreed, mourning his tea. It had far too much milk now, but years of travel had made him loathe to waste unspoiled tea. “Sousuke has his best constables looking into where the threat came from, but no one can tell us much. Our only suspect is residing safely in Astren, but there's no doubt that _someone_ will have followed the Lord and Lady Nanase here, to ensure the job was done, and done well...”

Whilst the details were not spread wide, they were not a secret amongst the nobility which rallied around the tale of prince Sousuke and his newest lover, refusing to allow Haru to be blackmailed into a marriage by the very man who had it out for them. Kiyoko, however, had sensed more to the story than that.

“And he's not a suspect?” she pursed her lips slightly, unimpressed by how easily they were trusting him. She batted a hand to wave away Rei's sour look at the implication of Haru's guilt. “I doubt you'll find much, with the constables investigating. Whilst they do good work, men with titles have a certain reluctance for getting their noses dirty.”

She sipped a her tea, letting the implications settle. Rei was quickly catching on that their meeting was more than a social gathering, but the will to catch their culprit surfacing even in her.

“And I presume you know someone who is all too happy to find dirt and bring it to light?” he questioned, lacing his fingers together. He wondered briefly why everyone presumed him too busy with books to think of much else.

Her smile said many things, and she named a time later in the evening, mentioning how she planned to take a stroll.

-

In the end, Rei took Makoto for company. His calm demeanour made him a good judge of character where Kisumi was fire and flight; quick to love passionately, but also to mistrust.

As the cold night air made his breath fog before his face, Rei pulled up his wide, deep hood. It cast shadow over his face, hiding him from enemies and friends alike. Outside the conservatory doors, their guards stood watching patiently, unaware of the fact they no longer resided between the long, pale orchids and the flowering rose bushes.

Next to him, Makoto slid a hand from beneath his cape to tangle their fingers together. He was a tactile person and infinitely gentle even at the worst of times, showing a certain kindness and love that was near impossible to find in nobles raised with etiquette tutors.

Quiet footsteps heralded Kiyoko's arrival, flanked by a tall, muscular man with silver hair, and a man with a stern face and a roughly shaven head. He fell into step with her as she came past, taking the next left for the short walk towards the city. So late at night it was still not unusual to see people milling about; their city rarely slept.

He'd almost forgotten how nice it was to walk the streets without guards, though without doubt the strangers were for their protection as much as hers. Around them, people paid him little attention save for an attempt to sell him their wares here and there. In his hood, he was neither foreign nor concubine, and in the area they passed into, there was even less interest.

The buildings in the area were smaller and shoddily lit with a great many lamps and much more noise, sailors and travellers looking for good ale and wine at low prices, and somewhere to sleep when it became too much.

They stopped outside a plain looking building, coloured in beige and slightly dirty. It had fewer windows than the buildings around it, and the doors looked like solid, thick wood, ready to be bolted as a moment's notice. At their entrance, a short brunette with a single golden piece of hair slid the bolt across, and went back to what seemed to be a book filled with a great many different styles of handwriting. 

He chose not to worry when Kiyoko kept going, making her way up the broad staircase to a door that was slightly ajar.

Inside, a man looked up. He rivalled Sousuke for size, but looked older. When he truly looked, the man looked older even than Kisumi, perhaps nearing the middle or the end of this thirties. His hair was bright red and his smile rivalled it for sheer attention. His skin was deeply tanned by the sun, rather than naturally so, but his posture screamed something native to the city. Perhaps his father was from far away, Rei thought immediately.

“No royals?” the redhead asked, standing and crossing his arms over his impressive chest. The corded muscle in his arms stood out as he stood with his back straight. They were shown off by this odd sparse clothing.

There was little more to his shirt than a long waist-coat, if it could be called that. It was nearly as if someone had forgotten that a shirt was meant to have sleeves, and a collar, or in fact, a front. His trousers were similarly shameless, and of a soft-looking material, clinging tightly to his legs. It pulled together with a leather sword-belt riddled with pouches, holding things Rei itched to know about. 

His voice seemed like the kind to always carry across a room and seemed only to be kept quieter by necessity.

“That would be much too dangerous,” Makoto argued, finally pushing his hood back. The stranger cast an appreciative eye over him that made Rei bristle. He'd also forgotten that other people were not quite so adept at only subtly looking at his lovers, but would rather openly leer. A small laugh passed his lips at Rei's frown and his squared shoulders, giving him his own appreciative glance. Rei much had the feeling he looked at everyone in his path in such a way.

“True,” he conceded, raking a hand through his tousled hair that seemed to defy all logic and remain slicked back. “But on the topic of princes, I'm Mikoshiba. Kiyoko said you might need some... help in finding a few people.”

He rested his hands on his hips as he finished, confidence pouring from his stance. He seemed to understand their interest.

“I might need a few... opportunities to get into the palace,” he hinted, still cheerful. “And maybe a royal blind eye or two. A little bit of help if an ambassador isn't that keen on me.”

“That's unlikely,” one of the men who had picked them up interrupted with a pointed look, drawing a laugh from Mikoshiba. It filled the room with little effort and seemed wholehearted. He didn't quite get the joke himself. When he finished, Rei spoke.

“I can't promise you that myself... but Sousuke can.”

From beside him, he could feel Makoto's hand brush his back, slightly worried but supportive. As Mikoshiba found a hood similarly nefarious, Rei considered how to get him in.

Sousuke had risked war for him – the least he could do in return was nip a foreign threat in the bud.

  
  


 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays my friends! thank you for your feedback and kind words, they're some of the highlights of my year! here's a fairly plot-heavy chapter, but... it's goin' down. thank you for reading <3

The words absolutely _not_ rested on the tip of Sousuke's tongue. From half a palace away, he could almost hear the word's in his father's tone of voice, and it stopped him. Each time Sousuke had suggested clandestine methods and under-hand tactics, he'd been told the exact same thing, that it was later he would learn to run a kingdom, but as it stood, he had the men by his side and his own wits to make his choices.

The man before him would never be mistaken for noble. Too loud, too bright, under-dressed and whilst the skin above his low waistband was darker than Kisumi's, the rest was far darker, unlike most nobles who favoured parasols and shaded tents. His mostly-bare chest seemed to do little to make him feel a chill as evening set in. The only sign he realized the sun was setting was to light the lanterns in the corners of the room as Sousuke sat thinking behind his desk.

Off to the side, Rei and Makoto looked sheerly worried, sat close together, discussing their choice under their breath. Closer, Haru sat on his desk, here by obligation. For a moment, Sousuke had hesitated keeping him close as he spoke to Mikoshiba, but the trust he wanted to build needed a starting point, and a state secret was hardly something to sneer at.

“Kisumi,” he called eventually, distracting him from his intense stare at Mikoshiba. He hadn't averted his gaze since he'd stepped into the room, but his look differed from the suspicion with which he'd regarded Haru for weeks on end. “Something wrong?”

A smile flitted over his lips, sweet and pink and in any other circumstance, wholly kissable.

“He looks familiar,” Kisumi confessed, and Sousuke wondered why he felt shocked. The world that nested in the shadows was all interconnected, and even in the shadows Kisumi was a shining point of attention. He turned to stare at Mikoshiba again. “But I'm sure we've never met. I'd remember.”

He tilted his head slightly. In front of Sousuke, Haru hadn't turned a page in his book since the very first one, over an hour ago. Despite that, he didn't even twitch to look up at either of them.

“It's the eyes,” Kisumi settled on, getting up to move closer and look. He was shorter than Mikoshiba by a good shot, but he seemed nevertheless still larger than life.

“Could be,” Mikoshiba agreed. His arms uncrossed from over his chest, one hand falling to rest familiarly on Kisumi's shoulder. “Looks like me, but shorter? A bit skinnier? Even louder?”

In the corner, Rei pulled a disbelieving face. It mirrored Kisumi's more excited one, the way his hair bounced as he nodded.

“My younger brother!” Mikoshiba confirmed, his smile wide and cheerful. “He loves to travel, so I'm not surprised. He hasn't been here yet, though, but I'm sure he'd love for an old friend to show him around if he does. I'll send him up to the palace. Hanging out with concubines... I'm not sure our mother would've been proud or crying.”

His laughter took the sting and the almost-insult from his words, teasing a light smile even from Makoto's worried demeanour. Most mothers would cry if they were not native, and Sousuke didn't relish Rei's parents someday coming face to face with him. He hoped only that it would not be before his own execution, after Prince Izumida declared a war. Sousuke cleared his throat as the laughter died down, steepling his fingers. Eventually, he would have to talk business.

“He's welcome to visit the palace, as is any man or woman who visits my lands,” Sousuke offered graciously, almost by rote but still genuine. He kept his tone as placating as possible without losing the firm edge. “But he would, of course, need funding. Which brings up another question. What funding do _you_ require if you're given permission to carry out this investigation?”

For a moment, there was only silence. In between, Rei stood. Slowly, he tugged Haru towards the couch he had occupied with Makoto. Over the past few weeks, it seemed he'd grown an admiration for Haru's quiet confidence and soothing aura.

“That's a good question...” Mikoshiba mused, pacing in a slow circle from the desk to the window, looking out of it as he thought of his demands. “A thousand coins for me, of course.”

A steep price – plentiful for six lavish golden rings with inlaid rocks, or a small house of pleasant comfort. To the crown's coffers, if he were to find their culprit within the palace who leaked information, it would be worth it. He had no one to trust but Rei and his mystery woman, and would have to sink his faith in.

“And a few blind eyes here and there.”

Harder to give. Sousuke frowned, rubbing at the ring on his left ring finger. It was centuries old and the lettering had faded, though the garnet in the middle shone bright. The ring had always been a reminder of the centuries his family had tried to give their people the best they could.

“Not always,” Mikoshiba added. His smile seemed gentler as he sat. His legs spread as wide as they could go, the multitude of pouches on his belt clinking as they rubbed together. “If our younger ones are stupid enough to get caught by the city guard, well... let them rot until they become smart enough to find their way out. But you know as well as I do that some nobles have the city guard in their pocket and freely take what isn't theirs.”

An ever-present ball on anguish twisted in Sousuke's stomach at the reminder his aristocracy were less than loving of the public. Raising his chin, he nodded. He couldn't say no to a few nobles being scared in their inner sanctums into behaving better when he had struggled for years with how to discourage them without causing them to start a coup against him.

“Perfect!” he clapped his hands together, standing quicker than Sousuke could follow to pull him into a firm embrace, kissing each of his cheeks three times. A northerner, then. He kissed back as Mikoshiba pulled back, a sparkle in his eye. “And I am your Highness' honoured guest, yes...? Here to oversee the performance of the city sluices... Everyone will forgive a genius if he's eccentric, and there's no better word to describe me.”

-

Mikoshiba turned out to be a party and the resulting headache wrapped in one.

The palace ladies, and not least few of the men, were enamoured of his fine Northern dancing as Rin's birthday gala was hosted in the palace, Sera had quickly fallen to the charms of his odd defensive holds and throws, and somehow, even Sousuke's advisor could not find fault in his charms.

The hard part, for Mikoshiba Seijuurou, was where to start in a new job. Most of them had fairly easy places to start -- the father who suspected the housekeeper was more than friendly with his son, or the disgruntled kitchen staff who were certain their wages became less and less each time. The primary thing they had in common was how much they were based on people. They were his strong point, easily falling to his charm and his bright, wide smiles before they had the chance to even become suspicious of him.

He'd even been slightly impressed by how long his Highness had held out before giving in and hiring him to find their palace's leak. A few hours was remarkable, especially when he'd been genuinely interested in the case. Seijuurou had never considered himself a nationalist - not even in his homeland far to the North - but the city was pleased, which was a far cry from the usual misery of a big city, and he was almost certain part of it was Prince Sousuke's refusal to allow luxurious waste when there were mouths to feed and the bread about to go to the barren lands was plenty soft and only rejected by nobles who preferred it fresh-baked.

And whilst he wasn't a fan of the idea that one man made decisions for a country, the decisions Sousuke made were shaping up to trump those his father had made before him.

"Evening," he smiled brightly, dressed differently to his usual wont. He let his accent roll naturally, hard Rs throughout his speech, rather than the softened and more lyrical way he spoke when doing day to day business. His belt of pouches had been swapped out for a regular small sword belt over plain, boring trousers and a white, billowing shirt with a deep v down the front. Boring clothing, when he preferred jewel-toned clothing and bright, flashing adornments. But it was the boring fashion his homeland has adopted, and it suited him well enough to keep his cover and attract plentiful interest to his muscular chest. The maids before him were distracted enough to start with, their eyes drifting to the tip of the v in his shirt, catching glimpses of the thick treasure trail leading to his navel. "How fares your winter?"

He flashed them a wide smile, reaching out an arm to rest it on the wall and make his triceps flex. His usual height made him an imposing figure, but he had never come across as threatening without specifically meaning to.

"Fairly well," the first of them said, a pretty young lady with corn-silk blonde hair. Her eyes flitted back and forth between him and her second friend, quietly admonishing her whispered assurance that their winter was certainly not a cold one now that he had arrived. He laughed, sweeping a playful bow. It was an uncustomary gesture in this land and served only to interest them in him more.

"Mikoshiba Seijuurou," he stood and smiled again, taking in their names, filing it away for future use. Ladies in waiting, maids, and budding young chefs were the eyes and ears of a castle, allowing him to find information without waiting for weeks on end to hear an interesting tidbit from a noble who was equally likely to embellish the truth to spice it up a bit. "I'm here to take a look at some of the gates, the security... and hopefully make life a bit easier. Your messengers need to pass the large gate each time they wish to enter, no?"

He lilted on the last word, leaning in to show his interest in their answer, his heady cologne's scent carrying to them with the motion. It carried scents of spiced amber and leather, with a light scent of lemon-zest to keep it from becoming too cloying. It was a rather seductive scent he'd become fond of and had brewed each year for his own birthday.

"Oh, yes," the girl who'd joked about hot flushes nodded, pleased to get his attention - likely to playfully argue later that clearly, she had been his favourite. "We have so many messengers, so they often come in droves, which makes it not so bad. My lover, though - he works on the towers - he said lately, a messenger keeps coming at night, but they've been given orders to let him in. He doesn't like it one bit - even Princes have been told to lower their hoods and bare their faces before!"

She crossed her arms in a huff, clearly not one fond of penny dreadful novels full of intrigue and hooded strangers.

"Who on earth would give leave like that?" he frowned, sighing in exasperation of the loose security. To keep his cover, he added a slightly more professional tone. "A small side-door would be far easier, securing every visitor must be seen personally entering and leaving the palace."

The girl nodded in agreement, clearly fond of his logic. Seijuurou had no doubt she would suggest the same to her lover, who would speak of it to the rest of the guard. One good idea could plant the seed of trust too easily with the appearance of wanting the best for the kingdom. His land's stereotype of peace and help was beneficial aplenty for him in these cases.

"The captain of the guard," she confided, her voice dropping to a whisper. Likely, the guard had been told not to share the information, and they seemed to have listened. He'd not heard of the captain allowing mysterious strangers at all so far. "He keeps receiving birds to his rooms, too, but no one dare ask. The last man who tried was put on leave without pay."

That, he'd heard of - the man had defected to mercenaries, where there was not always an answer, but if one were bold enough, they could ask any question.

"While I'm certain his intentions are innocent, it hardly creates trust," Seijuurou lamented, taking in their nods of agreement, and sniffed at the air where the scent of orange pastries floated towards him. Passing up the subject, he offered his arm up to link with one of the girls, raising his brows in an obvious question of whether they would enjoy lunch or not.

-

The captain seemed innocent. A bit too much, in Seijuurou's opinion. His past was utterly clean, down to affairs or relationships, and Seijuurou knew from experience that the overtly innocent rarely had the contents to match.

"Captain Sera, am I right?" he called from down the hallway one afternoon, in the lull before the dinner hours and the after the afternoon training drill had ended. The man turned - slightly droopy eyes and dark, dark green hair that reminded Seijuurou of evergreens. His mouth had been set into a stern line before he slipped into a friendly, open smile, his hand leaving the hilt of his sword.

"And you, Master Mikoshiba, here to prevent another breach?" Sera countered, tilting his head a slight. It made the edge of his jaw bump into the high, stiff collar of his long over-coat. It buttoned from the waist to the collarbone, the sleeves ending at his wrists to keep it out of the way and allow him to ride horses, whilst still providing him warmth were he called out in the late night hours. "I'm glad someone with expertise has decided to look for us."

He turned slightly as Seijuurou approached, allowing them to fall into step with each other towards one of the many meeting rooms in the palace.

"I'm glad to be here," he countered, holding open the door to a red-themed meeting room, tugging the bell-pull as he entered for a servant to come. "His Highness was quite eager for me to meet you, after how much he trusts you with his life and his palace."

The words were slightly sly if Sera knew the full extent of them, but his light tone kept them sounding as mere admiration and eagerness to discuss the palace's shortfalls. As the servants entered, he sat, asking for a light meal and a few wines to accompany it. He preferred the light, almost shimmery-pale ones himself, sparking a glint in Sera's eyes. Any self-respecting Tuvairan would be ready to argue for the cause of heady, full-bodied dark wines, especially in tandem with lovely sweet desserts like heady chocolates with sweet red berry sauces.

"Don't say our first discussion will be to tell me off, Captain," he teased. He laced his fingers together on the table, leaning forwards a bit. It put them closer as his arch look drew a laugh from Sera. He shook his head, his hands coming up in a universal gesture of surrender. He'd been moments from a lecture, of course.

"I'll hold myself back this time, but I can't promise to be so kind next time if you insist on missing the best parts of our lands... In fact, my father's family makes a dark wine, almost black, with hints of cloves that's guaranteed to make a believer from anyone." Sera insisted, reclining in his chair. Their first meeting would be little work and much discovery of mutual interest, Seijuurou had decided. Men like Sera weren't so hard to read. Order, books, good wines and likely board games rather than cards. He'd guess, and likely come plenty close.

"So, that's an offer to allow a foreigner to try it, and make a new acquaintance in the meantime...?"

-

Throughout the week, Seijuurou became good at being where Sera was. Of course he had other things to do - the advisor seemed very aware of Seijuurou's presence as it appeared each time he snuck off with a court lady or her husband, and even Haru seemed slightly on edge without being able to put his finger on why. He had no reason to fear - within days, Seijuurou had already dismissed the notion Haru might be a spy for the King.

He seemed more a man of simple pleasures than ambition, soaking for long hours in the bath, and cautiously allowing Kisumi to come closer each day, making an effort to reply a slight. It was clear he hardly fit in, but a life together - irrevocably - made it difficult to fathom someone who would not make an effort. Besides his long baths, he appeared to tend to down-to-earth pleasures; Seijuurou had rarely tasted food so good not cooked by a chef as he did when sitting in Prince Sousuke's chambers to relay progress, picking at the mackerel based dishes.

Over time, he'd even become fairly fond of Haru's dry humour, sneaking up on them at random, leaving him more cheerful than before as he left to investigate more. He had been in each section of the palace, subtly fishing for gossip. He'd heard of the nobles plotting to vote against a lowering of taxes on wine trade, who had sought to curry his favour with Sousuke, and of the merchant who took rings for cleaning and gave them back missing stones.

None had cropped up quite so suspicious as the captain, though, and he considered it as he entered the empty room for their first serious meeting. Motive, method... they all floated through his head as he tried to think of questions that would lead him to an answer. He would work on the how - how would an assassin slip in, even with a guard's help, when there was such a vast amount of them?

"How fares your day?" He called as Sera entered, several pouches in his hands. They were undoubtedly war-markers, proven as Sera tipped the pouches onto the table. Mostly they were reserved for the higher ranks, and they appeared to be carved in small swords, modelled on versions around each of the five countries. The craftsmanship was stunning as Sera set about moving the markers to each of the guards' regular positions on a large, aerial map of the castle set on the table.

"Not so bad," Sera shrugged, his loose clothing shifting on his formidable shoulders. He was clearly a man of sword-play, with a built chest and shoulders. His legs were nothing to sneer at, of course, as he ran and marched and parried, but his arms were the centre focus of his body. They were shown off in the warm inside of the palace, where his outer layers had come off to leave him in a tight, sleeveless tunic. "The guard is doing its best to remain in my good graces after the incident, so they train twice as hard with much less encouragement."

He showed a small smile at the words, sitting to sweep his hands out and launch into a detailed explanation. There were no gaps in his plans and no gaps in his walls; the edge of the royal forests, which were thick with intermittent clearings, were watched closely from the walls for both game and people. All citizens in the day flowed through the main gates and through the large entrance hall - which had guards at every exit. He had no idea, he concluded, how anyone could hide in the palace without cooperation.

Nobles were allowed entrance by the head butler or one of his trusted employees, who kept rigorous note of the entrances and exits - which had the unwitting benefit of discouraging nobles from taking paramours in the palace when the guards had no qualms on entering the rooms to check where the guests had disappeared to by the time the palace was winding down.

"I cannot see why anyone would wish to harm our Prince," Seijuurou frowned, his hands clenching theatrically at his sides. "Kind to those both native and foreign, as you can see with how kindly he took in Rei... I can't fathom another in this palace that would be so gracious."

A twitch at the corner of Sera's eye caught his gaze. Ah. No one had mentioned that to him.

"I fear what were to happen had he not ordered Rei's safety and kept him close to hand," he continued, raking a hand through his hair to leave it in a distinctly mussed fashion.

"I would have kept him plenty safe," Sera protested, a slight annoyed slant to his brows. That Sousuke had gotten there first remained unsaid, and obvious.

"I'm sure you would have. You're a very good host, after all. There was a promise to show me the beauty of midnight wines, I believe..." he hinted, setting his appointment in Sera's rooms for the next eve.

-

The night came as quickly as he could ever have hoped, allowing him to not wile away time after he had freshened up - and thought of his perfect plan. People were paranoid, and ruffling their rooms was just enough to make them suspicious. He just had to get Sera to not notice his meddling before morning.

He slid inside without greeting, letting his hands fall on Sera's shoulders, spooking him from his focus and his tension of paperwork.

"Enough!" he demanded as Sera started to laugh off his shock, slipping the papers together to file them away. When they were put away in a drawer - unlocked, he noticed - he turned and stood, motioning to an impressive spread of two dozen dusty bottles and at least as many dishes. A large pail of pristine water from some of the underground springs stood next to it with drying cloths to keep the wines from interfering with eachothers flavours without overwhelming the table with dishes. The bottles stood open, having been allowed to breathe and aromatize.

"This one is from my family," Sera said, and started with a bottle so dark it was almost black. Pretending to be a good student, Seijuurou sipped from his dish with full intention of leaving sipping behind in the very near future.

When he had Sera thoroughly, properly sleepy enough that there was little chance he'd wake unless woken, he rifled through the neatly laid draws of smallclothes in a perfunctory manner; Sera was not a man to leave his own death-sentence in a drawer. With similar grace, he rifled through each drawer and Sera's paperwork, carefully leaving the jewellery to avoid it looking like he was after riches. Once done, he clambered onto the bed where Sera lay, waiting for morning as dozed off lightly, far less drunk than he'd let on.

-

As he woke later, Seijuurou lay as still as he could, feigning a deep sleep and a comfortable, light breathing rhythm. In the night, Sera had rolled over to spoon him, and as a result his arm had gotten trapped under Seijuurou's body. Through his eyelashes, he could see Sera take in the room - the slightly open drawers and ruffled papers - as he stilled and tried with more vigour and a quiet precision to free himself. On a deep sigh, Seijuurou rolled over, cuddling up to one of the down-stuffed pillows instead, nuzzle far enough into it that his open eyes wouldn't be seen.

As he stood, Sera checked back every few seconds, rubbing at his tired eyes while going through his own drawers. His attention was drawn to his jewels only briefly before he tensed, his shoulders and neck going completely rigid as he caught on to what he'd been looking for. He stood to hesitate for a moment, then strode back towards the bed, opening a compartment in the thick, padded headboard through a series of small pressure plates all over the headboard. They revealed only a small leather sheaf that Sera flicked through, checking they all remained there before he lay it on the table and dressed, the dim light of the oncoming dawn letting him know most of the palace would be fast asleep still at this early hour. It was a perfect time for clandestine goings-on, and he took advantage of it to stride through the palace.

As soon as he left, Seijuurou stood, tugging on a very light outer coat of mottled browns, blacks and beiges that made him near-unseen in many shadows to those that were only glancing, but looked suitably fashionable to those looking. He didn't bother locking the door behind him, instead only turning a corridor as Sera was about to leave it, keeping his footsteps light and unheard as he gave chase to the gardens.

While they were all beautiful, the garden of yellow roses was one of the loveliest that had no visitors. It bordered the beekeepers' garden, where the palace's supply of honey and wax were cultivated mostly. The bees often had no interest in humans who merely looked at their roses, but it sent many visitors turning tail and running back. Sera had no such qualms as he slipped past the fences to the beekeepers' garden, making his way between the nests.

In the chilly morning, the bees had yet to make an appearance, allowing Sera to kneel and dig where it seemed very few people ever walked, evidenced by the lack of a path between it.

As he left, Seijuurou hid behind a magnolia that had ceased flowering weeks ago, and remained there until he was certain he would stay alone.

After he dug, he opened the sheaf and skimmed them as any good spy would. He swore softly under his breath as the contents hit him fully, hurrying to meet his prince who would undoubtedly be interested in them.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Sousuke slept unwell the night Mikoshiba marked his man and followed to unearth his secret, but he thought nothing of it as he woke. Sousuke often slept unwell in these times; his life seemed to be unsettled in every aspect where he might find balance. In the courts his council argued between themselves, unwilling to listen to Sousuke as the voice of reason whilst his father still lived.

His father... stubborn, grower iller by the day. He seemed only to awake and appear when the council finally became more open to the idea of Sousuke as ruler, where he would then stir the water, remind them Sousuke is not king, and ruin faith in him. He should have been able to turn to his harem in comfort, but the fact he couldn't knotted his stomach with guilt.

With Haru so close, even Makoto refused to trust. 

He could see why, of course. It was a convenient entry for a spy, to come so close to the prince there was no guard between them, but there was a calm in Haru that had sharks beneath his surface that reached out to Sousuke. It was a silent suffering that was still ebbing from Haru's core: the obligation to be a good son, but the longing for freedom... though even in a harem, freedom was not fully his.

Sighing, Sousuke rolled from his bed, taking care to not stir Kisumi. These days Kisumi slept less lightly, safe in the knowledge that he had boxed his prince in on both sides, Makoto on the other end, Rei curled up close. He raked a hand through his hair, disheveling it worse than it already had been before. As quietly as he could, he made for the door, stopping to look back at his bed in the low light of an early dawn.

They looked at peace; it was like seeing pieces of his heart shrouded in blankets before he turned and passed through the doors to his own private courtyard, unsurprised to see Haru with his feet in the shallow pool, watching the fish. In the dim light they looked a dull gray, curiously brushing past Haru to see if there was food to be had.

"Good morning," he tried, seating himself on a low chair, his bed robes slipping open to reveal his chest. The wind tickled at his skin, but it drew a half-ways glance from Haru before he turned back, clearly half asleep. In the silence, and his tired mind, Sousuke couldn't help but spill all that had built up between the peeved shushes he received each time he had tried to bring them up in Haru's presence. "I worry our handsome friend has no information to give me."

"The council grows restless as I have no more to say to them on the matter." A sigh, another hand through his hair. Haru's firm gave on the ripples in the water was a comfort.

"Last time this happened... father had the traitor hanged by dawn. Weeks hence, and I have nothing but empty hands. Kisumi insists it is the job of my shadows to find the traitor, but I lead my shadows, and I've not led them the right way thus far."

"It feels impossible to please them, my harem is as tensely wound as an untamed horse, and I cannot seem to settle them."

It was the largest amount he could recall divulging in quite some time without prompting, but the weight felt lifted off his chest, if only a slight.

"And I?" Haru prompted, lifting his feet from the water to ring the bells to break their fast. 

"No one seems to be able to agree if you are traitor to your king, a seductive viper in the prince's nest, or mad for power," Sousuke smiled slightly, amused more than anything by the increasingly ludicrous accusations slung at Haru's name. "For my part, I think you will grow to find your place."

A hum met him, and then left him as Haru went to dress, the soft noises of their closet bound to wake the others. Sousuke rose to follow, determined to find a source of his turmoil, and have its head.

-

Several meetings later, Sousuke escaped to his offices, banishing his secretaries with a wave of his hand. Mikoshiba had called for an urgent meeting in a note delivered by a harried looking pageboy. Moments after he sat, Haru entered with Rei, followed by the others, and finally, Mikoshiba and a stack of opened, ever so slightly dirty letters. He set them down on Sousuke's desk with a somber look, spelling ominous news.

"I think we have our breach of security," was all he said, moving to sit in one of the visitors' chairs by the large stained window in the east of his offices. It had a pot of peppermint tea on it, just waiting for him to pour himself a glass. The room seemed to hold its breath as Sousuke picked up the stack of letters, opening the first. There seemed to be at least three dozen of them, the envelopes growing thicker as they seemed older.

Both the paper and the envelope were of thick, good quality vellum, but not quite so good it would be able to be tracked to a supplier, written on in costly pure black ink in an elegant, looping hand. They were in Tuvairan, but the looping script was not of his countrymen. Bracing himself, he folded it open and read. It seemed short, but too long to be a mere invite.

_FAO Captain Tadanori Sera_

_Dear Captain,_

_I should hope my letter finds you well in the troubling time I have heard you find yourself in. As I write, I find myself frightfully forward, but you must understand, I have admired you from afar for a great long time, waiting patiently to reveal myself._

_Hearing of your battle with your prince for the foreigner, I cannot help but confess I have been nothing but jealous, until, of course, I was delighted. I am ashamed to admit my happiness at your defeat in winning his hand, but my heart could not bare to stand the thought that another might stake claim on your hand._

_I'm afraid I cannot reveal myself to you, but hazard to guess that my anonymity, and by extension my safety, will soothe your worrying heart for the wellbeing of those close to you. I pray beg you return my words, if not my affections, and leave a letter under the magnolia trees in the far northern yards on the morn of the third day. A messenger will know where to find me, but knows not the content of my letters, nor the recipient._

_I await with baited breath,_  
_An admirer_

Sousuke set the letter aside, looking up. He could feel his frown deepening, and Gou's admonishments that he would sooner get wrinkles if he continued to frown.

"Why are you showing me my captain's loveletters?" he demanded, feeling the perk of interest in the room.

"Keep reading," Mikoshiba raised his eyebrows for a moment, elbows on the table, intently watching Sousuke's face. The next two letters in the pile were similar to the first, full of pretty words and unabashed intent to claim Sera for himself. The fourth, however, was another case.

_My dear Sera,_

_I cannot express in words how my heart soared to find a letter from you adorning my desk when I awoke this fine morning. In my joy, I could have near kissed my messenger that he had brought this to me. Alas, my kisses only long for yours._

_I'm certain your demeanour to me will warm as we come to know one another better, but at the very least I hope my words carry on to brighten your days in that cold and dreary palace of yours. Someday I should hope to receive an invite from you nonetheless, and ply you with the sweetest fruits I can find, the headiest wines, as your countrymen love. I am not of your lands, but of further from here, and confess to being ignorant to the ways of wine in the true appreciation of them._

_For now, my dear captain, strengthen your guard. Rumour has it a traveller passes through to your prince, and not only that. He is dangerous, and a puppet to a much worse evil._

_If harm were to come to you... I would ere let my own life go than yours._

_With love,_  
_An admirer_

Each letter after that increased in intensity, showering praise on Sera for returning the affections held within, promising long trips and exotic animals, fine drinks and evenings by a fire doing far more than writing. Each one held small hints of treachery, too, a small question here and there if Sera had problems with any guards, followed by a promise to soothe away worries, or if Sousuke frustrated him ever, prying for information on unguarded places.

_My love,_

_I've dreaded for that letter to come from you baring bad news of the closeness of the foreigner to your prince. His venomous seduction and his unrelenting manner must have addled the wits of your prince. Be on guard, captain, and be wary. Anything can happen to your prince, should he be so close to a demon._

_I will write to you whence the threat is taken care of._

_Remain safe,_  
_An admirer_

Bile rose in Sousuke's throat - the assassins had entered only because they knew their weaknesses, and had come for Haru. It wasn't hard to see that such a sweet talker, such a seductive liar, had to be one of their enemies. If Haru's former foe had been of one of their border countries across the mountains, this writer was surely from the other, fearing an alliance if Haru were to marry Gou. The designs of death had been on them both. Suddenly, he felt furious that they had tried to kill his concubine at his dinner table.  
Haru was his to protect, and had wanted nothing but to live life unimpeded, and a selfish, power hungry noble had tried to take it from him. Calling loudly for a guard, Sousuke grit his teeth and forced out the words.

"Call upon the Captain. Imprison him. Allow none but me entry, not even the council."

Rubbing at his eyes, Sousuke wasn't sure he could bare a dozen more letters evidencing the treachery.

"Rei," he called, looking up to scan the room for his scholar, watching him approach with a somber look. "Does the script strike a cord in your mind? Would you have a clue for us of who to approach?"

Handing over the letters, he waited as Rei rang for references, opening an unrelated book on the recent trade laws of the continent. 

"This is a very faithful copy of the documents," he said nervously, anxiously fixing his eyeglasses and his index finger. "I had thoughts when I saw the letters that it was as such, but I had to check..."

He trailed off, sliding the book to Sousuke, drawing his fingers to an annex written in perfectly mimicked script, the original handwriting kept in place. He hesitated for a moment.

"I can't say for certain, of course, but... I would hazard a very strong guess that this, based on these characters here," he pointed to several on the two documents that were a perfect match. "That prince Izumida appears to be our culprit."

An anxious look overtook his face, soothed slightly by Kisumi's hand on his lower back.

Sighing deeply, for Laran was the worst of their enemies, the most hostile of all of them, and furious with his decision to have Rei, Sousuke made a choice.

If he did not, the council would not follow his lead, the public would see him falter weakly, and his father... was best left unthought of.

He would march his troops to Laran come equinox a week hence, and settle matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> absolutely 100% was under the impression I'd already posted this. the plot Thickens


End file.
